


No Need To Say Goodbye

by KilledTheQueen



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends, Dragons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:30:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilledTheQueen/pseuds/KilledTheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a child Merlin spent his days with his best friend Arthur, who just so happened to be the Prince. But when Arthur's mother is murdered and magic is outlawed The Purge begins. To protect themselves Merlin and his family must flee Camelot. Years later their paths cross again in the most unlikely of ways. Can they ever be rediscover the friendship they thought they'd lost? Or better yet admit to the deeper feelings the other inspires in them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:The Dragon language is based off of Old English- however I have no idea what I’m doing, I used a translator and some language skills I have left over from high school where I studied a completely unrelated language. So if you’re an Old English scholar I am sorry, this story will probably be painful for you. If you don’t know much about the language, then I think you’ll enjoy!

 

 

 

Balinor has always been loyal to Camelot, from the day she was built up from the very rocks and trees and valleys that she now stands on. He’s rejoiced in her triumph and in the triumph of her King, his friend Uther. He has bled and waged war for her; has wept for her fallen soldiers and tended her soil. Balinor has lived and loved and moved within her walls for so many years that the idea of him ever having had a home outside of her seems foreign and out of place. Camelot is his home; it is the place that he will always return to. The place he met his wife, the place his son was born.

From his position in the palace he has overseen the birthing of a new generation of dragons, friends whose wisdom will one day help to bring Camelot to further prosperity and happiness. His own companion Ruby, a great burnished auburn specimen with a protective streak, has already begun counseling the court. It seems to Balinor that the Golden Age of Camelot is upon them. That soon man and dragon shall be equal and magic will help the land and her people flourish.

Balinor holds this belief firmly until the day the Queen Ygraine is killed by the sorceress Nimueh.

It seems that everything changes overnight. Balinor goes to sleep in the rooms set aside in the palace for his family, arms holding Hunith from behind and his four year old son across the room in his own bed. They are peaceful and happy and in his sleep Merlin makes shadows dance.

In the morning they are awoken by Gaius pounding on their door and urging them to flee. Gaius is Hunith’s brother and Balinor’s dearest friend but he cannot imagine abandoning their home, surely things are not as bad as Gaius has been lead to believe. He makes his way quickly to the king’s chambers, knowing that if anyone can set things straight it will be his friend, his king, and though he knows Uther has been in mourning these past few weeks he is certain that he would not want his subjects to panic in such a way.

He knocks on the door, ignoring the stares of the knights to each side and is beckoned in almost immediately. He is shocked to see Uther and his advisors standing around a small table for two reasons. Firstly, if there was a meeting called Balinor should have been informed and secondly, because Aredian is among the men at the King’s side.

It is no secret that Aredian and Balinor share a seething hatred of one another. The whole kingdom is fraught with rumors as to what could raise the ire of Camelot’s kind Dragonlord. Balinor has heard them all. Some say Aredian had an affair with his wife, others maintain that Aredian’s dislike of magic is reason enough; even more believe that they war for the ear and affections of their king. No one has guessed the real reason. After all, who in their right mind would perceive Merlin as a threat?

“Balinor, I did not call for you” Uther says in a dismissive tone.

“With all due respect sire, I am Camelot’s Dragonlord and First Knight, if you have called a meeting of your advisors I should be in attendance.”

“You dare to question my judgment?” Uther’s voice is hard and smooth. Nothing like the jovial and welcoming embrace it usually is. Even with the death of Ygraine and the mourning he knows Uther is going through, Balinor is shocked to hear the tone directed at him.

“Of course not” Balinor frowns, “I only mean that it is my honor to serve you sire and Camelot but I feel that I could not do so effectively if not called to council.”

“You were not called because you were not needed” Aredian sneers and it is when Uther does not reprimand him for speaking out of turn that Balinor understands how long Aredian has had to whisper his despicable opinions in the king’s ear. While Balinor had been waiting to be called, wanting to give Uther and his son time to mourn, Aredian had been murmuring his poison to a heartbroken and waiting audience. Uther needed someone besides himself to blame for the death of his wife, Aredian saw his chance.

“My Lord” Balinor steps further into the room, “May I ask what all of this is about? Your kingdom is in an uproar your people are scared and panic stricken. I would beg you to talk to them, assuage their fears.”

“No one but the guilty has anything to fear” Uther says with a confidence that scares him.

There’s a sudden breeze from the open window to his right and Balinor can smell soot and ash in the air. He turns his head and what he sees strikes fear in his heart. A great cloud of smoke is rising from the direction of the hatchery.

“Pardon me my lord, but guilty of what?” Balinor’s pulse is thudding in his ears as he turns back to his king.

“Sorcery and magic will not be tolerated any longer.”

“Sire…you…magic is part of our lives here, it is what strengthens our kingdom, you cannot banish…”

“I am what strengthens our kingdom!” Uther seethes.

“Uther be reasonable…”

“Do not assume to tell me what is reasonable in my own kingdom Balinor. You have a choice to make this day.”

“…a choice?”

“Yes,” Uther says as he strides around the table to stand in front of Balinor. “Today you take a side, and once this decision is made there is no turning back.”

“But sire, he has already performed magic!” Aredian objects.

“Silence!” Uther demands, looking to Balinor, he’s eyes softening slightly, “Balinor, old friend. You have always been loyal, always an asset in the fight to make Camelot great. Now I must ask you to sacrifice even more.” He puts a hand on Balinor’s shoulder and for a moment he looks more like his old friend again, more like the sovereign he has always followed. “Today I will make a decree that the use of magic is prohibited. I will not change my mind on this, but I will allow those who have been known to practice sorcery in the past a chance, just one chance, to renounce magic and to never use it again. Those who agree to those terms will not be prosecuted.”

Balinor feels sick, nauseous and shocked because his friend, his king, would never ask something like this of him. His king would understand that magic is not something one chooses, but something you are born with. It is not a toy to be played with and put away at will. Magic is him, he is magic and if it is that way for him, than he cannot imagine what it will be like for Merlin.

His son has been moving objects and enchanting his toys since before he could talk. His son, though he has not told Uther so, is prophesized to be the greatest sorcerer Albion has ever seen. Wise and strong and he will help Camelot to fulfill her destiny. Who is Balinor or even Uther to take that away from him?

“And what is the punishment for these crimes?” Balinor growls

“The only punishment fitting for those who betray our kingdom”

Balinor nods because he understands and slowly he shifts Uther’s hand from his shoulder.

“You have been loyal my friend and have saved my life many times.” Uther frowns, “For this I will give you and your family a head start.”

“You are making a mistake, sire” he sighs.

“I am king and what I decree is law. I would move quickly if I were you.”

Balinor bows, but finds any respect the gesture used to hold is now gone.

\--

It has been three weeks since they left the castle, that time has been spent running and hiding and in their spare time mourning the hatchlings and other magic users who had no time to escape. Balinor knows that some of the dragons survived, and he has to believe that if Ruby had been killed that he would have felt something. What hurts the most though is the silence; he cannot hear any of his kin not even the smallest whisper. It makes sense for them to hide, to look for peace in some far off country where they do not have to fear their children being slain. He only wishes he could hear them; that he could know for certain they are out there.

It is night and they had stopped to make camp a few hours earlier. Hunith and Merlin sleep by the fire and though Merlin does not fully understand what is happening, the shadows no longer dance.

The last weeks had been hard on all of them, Gaius had stayed behind. He could not bare the thought of deserting their king and had maintained that someone would need to be there for him when he realized the mistakes he’d made. Someone had to be there to help him fix it. Until then he would stay quiet and use his knowledge only to help heal the injured and sick in his role as Court Physician. Though Balinor disagreed, he could not deny understanding the hope the older man carried.

Hunith had wept when she left her brother behind but had since come to understand the need for them to leave. Though she had no magic herself she would never risk Balinor or Merlin’s safety. She cares deeper than any mother or wife Balinor has ever met, and she would do whatever it takes to see her family in one piece. Though Ygraine had been her dear friend, Hunith could never agree with the actions being taken in her memory, and she told Balinor more than once that the queen would have been ashamed of her husband. But for herself she held nothing but pity for him. It was times like these that Balinor could understand what loss could drive a man to take such rash action. He didn’t know what he would do if he lost Hunith. It didn’t bare thinking about.

Merlin however had been perhaps a little difficult. He had never known another home, never lived outside the palace walls or stolen away from the city for a weekend in the country. They had always planned on taking him to Ealdor where Hunith and Gaius had grown up before coming to court but as Merlin’s powers developed they found all their time being taken up by teaching Merlin how to respect and understand his magic. There was no time for family getaways.

Now that they had left the castle Merlin couldn’t help but ask question after question. “Why did we have to leave?” he’d say in his small voice, “Because the king was angry, darling” Hunith would answer. “Why is king angry?” he would ask, “Because he misses his wife.” Hunith would say. Balinor remembers a few months ago when Merlin started forming sentences and how proud they were of him. Now he feels guilty for missing the days of one word requests.

“Is Arfur angry?” Merlin lisped that night before Hunith had laid him down to sleep and Balinor had sighed, because of course his son would be thinking of his friend. Of course this whole ordeal was affecting him in a way that he had not even thought about, too wrapped up in betrayal and escape and worry for his family.

“No Merlin,” Balinor said placing his son in his lap, “Of course not, you two are best friend’s right?” Merlin nodded though it looked as if he was close to tears. “Well you know what that means don’t you?” Merlin’s big blue eyes looked up at him, “it means that Arthur will always love you. No matter how far away you are or how long you are parted, you will always love one another. That is what best friend means.”

Merlin had nodded seeming to understand, but at four years old Balinor thought love was probably a difficult concept to fully comprehend. Hunith had laid him down to sleep after that and joined him soon after, tired from another day of hiking through the forest.

It was not a secret between him and his wife that there was every chance that they were going to be caught. They had no horses and nowhere to go that Uther did not know about. Aredian was more than likely on their trail wanting both Balinor and Merlin disposed of and though Balinor hated him, he could acknowledge his skill as a tracker. It was a matter of time, the only hope he had was to reach the dragons before the royal guard reached them.

He had no idea how far the dragons had flown or if any stayed within calling distance of the kingdom at all. All Balinor had was faith that Ruby would not have let her brood stray too far from him, that she would feel his loss as acutely as he felt hers and be unable to give up hope. It was Ruby who had told him of the Great Dragon Kilgharrah’s prophecy, the prophecy that had been handed down to her by the wisest and eldest of all dragons, the prophecy that named Merlin Emrys as the most powerful sorcerer to have ever walked upon the earth. Surely the fate of such a boy would not go unnoticed.

\--

It was two days later when Aredian caught up to them. They had camped out near a rocky outcrop overlooking a river, not strategic for escape in the least, but they had been tired and Merlin had been fussy. They had stopped, started a small fire and cooked a small package of porridge over the flame. They were just settling in for the night when they heard the whispering.

The funny thing about whispering, Balinor had always thought, is how it seemed to carry so much further than regular conversation.

He jumped to his feet immediately grabbing his sword from the ground. Beside him Hunith gathered Merlin to her, telling him to stay quiet.

The knights entered the clearing from the trees at an easy pace, Aredian leading from the center.

“Balinor, Dragonlord of Camelot!” Aredian smiles

“I think you have mistaken me” Balinor says, though it sounds weak even to him.

“You are he,” Aredian says flippantly, before speaking loudly for the entire party of soldiers to hear. “Balinor, Dragonlord of Camelot, you and your family have been found guilty of sorcery by King Uther Pendragon,” he pauses, “a crime that carries the punishment of death.”

“You know the king acts rashly!” Balinor argues, not so much to Aredian but to the men who surround him, those that at one time were his men.

“Who are you to question the king’s judgment?!” Aredian rails, “You who has fled as indication of your very guilt”

“We are not guilty of anything but living as we always have” Balinor sees Hunith clutch Merlin tighter to her chest as he begins to squirm and prays that there is a way out of this, that this is not the end of his family.

“You are guilty of sorcery and conspiring against the crown, either one carries the same sentence.” The knight grins, “We are here to carry out that sentence.”

Aredian unsheathes his sword and it glints menacingly in the firelight. Balinor turns to his wife, bringing her in for a tight hug that encompasses their son. When he leans back to look at her, her eyes are wide and shinning with tears. “No, no please don’t do this…” she begs, and all Balinor can do is lean down to kiss her hoping that he is showing her even a speck of the love and faith that she inspires in him.

Balinor had never dreamed of being this lucky, to have a woman he loved unconditionally and a child made from that love. So as he turns from her he does not regret a thing he has done or anything he will do. It has all been for them.

“Are you ready to meet your fate?” Aredian asks with ill-hidden glee.  
Balinor smirks before looking up at the sky and spreading his arms wide “Dragoon!” he calls and as he begins to speak in the ancient tongue of his fathers, he can feel himself link with a magic the likes of which Aredian and these men will never understand. The link is bright and golden and leaves Balinor feeling at peace even as he hears Aredian yelling and the men around him scampering about.

The dragon hears him, this much he knows, though he does not recognize the beast itself. It hears the call of a lord and that is enough. Balinor latches on and he asks for help. Not for himself but for a woman and the boy who will be the last Dragonlord. The words flow from his mouth even as the soldiers around him begin to raise their voices in panic. He does not falter until he feels a sharp piercing pain in his chest.

He feels suddenly weak and shaky and in the background he can hear Hunith’s anguished scream. When he looks down he is not surprised to see the arrow protruding from his chest. Merlin cries out for him as he slumps to the ground and still all he can do is hope and pray that the dragon was close enough to intercede.

“Get the woman and the boy!” he hears Aredian call and in his foggy mind he tries to reach out, tries to call for what little magic he has left, but his sense are dull and he can find nothing lingering inside of him that will help. There is a shuffle to his side and Hunith calls out for Merlin just before his son comes to his side, kneeling over him.

“Papa” he says quietly hugging him with his small arms, searching for that comfort Balinor knows he will no longer be able to provide.

“Run” Balinor whispers to him, “Run my son…” but he understands that Merlin cannot. That he has been taken from everything he has ever known and it is unfair to ask him to leave the only thing he has left, but still he tries. “You must go…”

“No!” he cries and when he lifts his small hands Balinor can see them covered in his own blood. He’s too young, he thinks, to have so much on his shoulders, to have to watch his father die.

Suddenly Hunith howls and Balinor turns his head just in time to see her slump heavily to the ground at Aredian’s feet. “No…no” Balinor whispers as he watches the life leave his wife’s wide eyes from the ground across from him. He coughs because his lungs feel heavy and his breathing is coming in short staccato bursts.

“Mummy” Merlin whispers as he sits on the ground between them and Balinor is just able to make out the tears flowing from his wide unblinking eyes.

“Merlin…” he rasps, “please…run…” his vision is cloudy, black seeping in around the edges as the pressure on his chest increases. He wants to scream and rail against the events that are unfolding. His wife is gone, his child is about to be killed and he can’t move. He needs to get Merlin away, that’s all he can think about. He can’t let him die here with them. His destiny is much greater than this. He is so much more.

Inside him he feels something begin to rumble like a silent roar filling his chest and with it comes a spark of magic that just moments ago was lost to him. It takes all of his remaining strength but her reaches out towards Merlin, spreading his fingers and drawing his boy’s attention.

“I love you…” he whispers and then Merlin is gone the wind picking him up and pushing him, safely Balinor can only hope, over the rocky ledge and into the river.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Arthur feels like he has been riding for weeks, which is actually a fair assessment now that he thinks about it. His father has sent him on a whirlwind tour of the neighboring kingdoms, he’s been acquiescing to kings and bowing sweetly to ladies for the past month and now all he wants to do is get home. Of course the last stop on their route happened to be Mercia, a good week’s ride from home and home to King Bayard who has an unreasonable predilection for horse riding. Not taking into account the time Arthur spent on a mount getting to Mercia in the first place Bayard had insisted Arthur accompany him the last three days on jaunts around the kingdom and now he was more saddle sore than he’d ever been in his entire life. Including when he was first learning to ride as a child and he’d been told by his sister that he’d cried then.

 

Arthur takes pride in the fact that he leads his knights, Owaine, Cador and Geraint, for about six hours before insisting that they stop at a small inn near the main road. After all they’d all been riding with him and Bayard; it only stands to reason that they are as sore as Arthur.

 

The Kestrel Inn & Tavern is rustic to say the least, the floor strewn with straw and spilt ale and the clientele looks to me a mixture of farm hands and mercenaries. Arthur pulls his hood up to cover his trademark golden locks and makes sure that his scabbard his covered but close at hand before picking a table in the back corner and taking a seat. His knights sit with him except for Geraint who makes his way to the inn keeper to acquire rooms for the night.

 

From his position, Arthur takes in the room, ever the trained soldier his father brought him up to be. In the center of the tavern a group of men sit, they are easily made as mercenaries from their poorly tended armor and obvious scars running over their hands and forearms. They look harmless enough, contented to waste the night away in a fog of liquor and easily bought company. Near the door a group of aging gentlemen sit, obviously just in from a day tending their crops and in the corner there are two men playing a game of chance with the aid of magic to roll the dice. Though the magic makes his blood run cold, they are still in Bayard’s kingdom and it is not his place to pass judgment.

 

Geraint comes to the table with two sets of keys and being followed by a statuesque barmaid with cleavage that nearly spills out of her top. Geraint sits and the woman places pints down in front of each man at the table, leaning over more than necessary to display her ample bosom. Arthur would roll his eyes if he didn’t notice the other men leaning surreptitiously forward to get a better look. It always makes him feel odd and out of place when a woman is unrestraint by manners and decorum, he doesn’t know how to act or react to be more precise. Not to say that Arthur hasn’t had his share of beautiful young women in his bed, he is the crown prince after all, it just never seemed right, like he was missing something important.

 

Once she’s left Arthur clears his throat and takes a long drink from his tankard. His head is comfortably blank. After all the glad-handing he’s had to do in the past month, sitting there without the pressure to impress or intimidate is a welcome change. The atmosphere of the inn is relaxed and private despite the amount of people inside and it’s only after several minutes of sitting still and content that he hears something that draws his attention.

 

“Dragons?”

 

“Shh! You idiot, you want someone to hear you?”

 

Arthur is not sure when the group of men took up residence at the table next to him and the knights but they all seem to have locked onto the conversation.

 

“But Dragons? You can’t expect me to believe that after all these years a nest of dragons has gone undiscovered so close to the Camelot boarder.”

 

 Owaine is doing his best not to turn around and see if the men holding the conversation look reputable but Arthur can see them clear as day and they look like traders. Traders are just about the best source of gossip and information Arthur has found. They wander through so many countries, picking up bits and pieces of information along the way that they know may be valuable and therefore worthy of being paid for.

 

“It’s just what I heard, Randall. They say it lies not ten miles outside the village of Claipol, a large nest,” the man leaned in and knights listened closer, “they say the druids protect it.”

 

Cador sighed, “I suppose we’re not going home now are we?”

 

Arthur smirked, “No men, I suppose we aren’t.”

 

\--

 

As soon as Cador had heard the word “druids” he had known that Arthur would never let this go. Of course anyone who knew Arthur for any amount of time would probably have known that as well. Arthur did not like druids and it wasn’t because of the magic or their unlawful practices, not even because they seemed to him like some barmy collection of people who lived in the woods. No, Arthur had a much more personal reason for his dislike. Morgana.

 

His sister had disappeared soon after a Druid boy had been captured in Camelot. Morgana had taken a sentimental shine to the boy, no doubt because of his age, and okay it wasn’t that Arthur could not see her point, but what was he supposed to do about it? Uther’s rule was law. She’d been there for the great purge same as Arthur, though Arthur didn’t remember as clearly as she had. He only remembered that one day his best friend was playing knights with him in the courtyard and the next, he and his family were gone. The point was though, that there was nothing Arthur could have said to convince his father to spare the boy.

 

The night before his execution the boy had escaped and Morgana was suspiciously missing. Arthur knew she’d helped him escape but he also knew that she would come home after she saw him safely to his camp. However, after two days Arthur knew something had gone wrong. He’d taken to the woods with only Cador, for Arthur knew he could trust the knight to keep quiet despite his usual chatty temperament. They had found the remains of the druid camp, quickly torn down tents, abandoned fire pits and overlooked personal items. Then he’d found Morgana’s dress. It was strewn across the ground, covered in blood.

 

The druids knew to stay clear of Camelot after that day.

 

The village of Claipol is not more than a day’s ride from the inn and as Arthur sets out with his knights the next morning he is full or a righteous anger that he always equates with thoughts of his sister. This band may not be the same the tricked and surely killed his sister, but they are aiding a band of ravenous animals that can serve no purpose other than to harm those with which the druids have made enemies.

 

Dragons…he remembers vaguely the dragons that used to reside in Camelot, but mostly he remembers the hatchery. His…friend, yes friend because he was a friend, it was not his fault that his father was a sorcerer, used to take him in there to see the baby dragons. They always seemed so big, towering over a five year old Arthur and looking deep into his eyes. When he was small he always thought that the dragons held secrets; that they knew more than they told, they seemed so wise and all encompassing.

 

After the purge, once he was grown and he’d been trained and taught, he realized that the secrets they held were not mystical or wise but to detriment men. They held back facts that could harm their kingdom for their own pleasure, just as they had with the death of his mother. That was why Uther had had them killed. He would not choose them over his own kingdom and its people. He understood then, even if he still sometimes thinks of a boy with blue eyes and bright smiles.

 

They pass the village and ride through without stopping, breaking off from the main road and onto a lesser used path into the woods. The area lives up to its name, Claipol’s earth is less brown and more a deep gray beneath the sparse green grass. The clay packed earth peaks up at him from between the densely packed trees and shrubs that surround them immediately as they enter the forest. The air feels heavier there and the light turns a different shade as it diffuses through the green leaves of the canopy.

 

They continue into the woods and the ground elevates, leading them up a steep boulder strewn hill not quite tall enough to be a mountain but impressive in its own right. The horses take the small path up in the incline slowly with small steps and by the time they reach the top the path has worn away to nothing.

 

“Where to now, sire?” Geraint asks as they come to a stop at the top of the hill.

 

Ahead of them lies more deep forest, to the left the same and to the right a large lake. Arthur motions to the right, dismounting from his horse and leading her to the edge of the lake for a much needed drink. The knights follow suit seeming grateful for the respite as well.

 

“Do you think it’s true what they say about the dragons?” Owaine asks looking out over the lake and seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

 

“This close to the Camelot boarder?” Cador answers, “I doubt it, it’s not as if a dragon is inconspicuous is it?”

 

“True,” Owaine agrees, “but then all rumors do start from somewhere.”

 

Arthur sighs, “Don’t be ridiculous, it is obviously just a ploy to detract the authorities from going after the druids.”

 

“You think they made it up, sire? To keep people out of the woods?” Geraint asks.

 

“Yes, but I’ve not even seen any sign of the druids yet and we’re well over ten miles from Claipol now. It may be that I have led us on a wild goose chase.”

 

The knights do not say anything, no doubt also wondering if their journey has been in vain. There’s a chill in the air and they have been away from home for far too long and still have a few days travel between them and Camelot. No doubt they are feeling the strain.

 

“I tell you what,” Arthur says once he’s drank some water. “Let's venture on just one more mile and if we do not come across anything we’ll veer off towards home.”

 

The knights agree quickly and with in twenty minutes they are watered and back on their mounts heading into the forest once again.

 

\--

 

There have been times in Arthur’s life when he can clearly see where he has made the wrong decision. The first was when he’d decided that his father’s sword would be much more fitting for his play duel with his best friend than his silly old wooden sword. That had ended up with a four year old screaming when Arthur’s “king” sword had nicked his thigh and his mother’s precious glass vase exploding. Then there was the night Morgana had disappeared, Arthur could have chosen to stand up to his father or help Morgana steal the druid boy away but he didn’t. The entire kingdom knew how that had ended.

 

Then, there was the situation he was currently in. Arthur could have chosen to end their scouting expedition at the lake, turned back and continued on home. Instead he’d needed to go just that little bit further, he just had to test fate. Well fate had had the last laugh.

 

 As they’d crested the next hill they’d stopped dead. There were no druids, none. There were however many, many dragons.

 

Arthur stood frozen atop the hill looking down at the nest, it seemed to be surrounded by steep impeding hills except where the hill parted and the lake they had stopped at before formed a small cove. Three or four large caves lined the sides of the hills and in the center sat a small valley near a corpse of trees and four dragons. Large full-grown beasts whose eyes were trained on them.

 

Beside him Cador was gripping onto his wrist for dear life, Geraint and Owaine were similarly still and panicked flanking them.

 

This decision was going to end worse than the other two had.

 

It was sudden, the transformation from still face off to battle. The dragons growled and Owaine unsheathed his sword. After that all hell broke loose. The dragons were leaping into the sky, and then within an instant bearing down on them. Arthur took his sword from his side, diving as a large black beast rushed him. Beside him Geraint screamed and Arthur turned just in time to see his body crumple a large talon protruding from his chest where he’d obviously torn it from the dragon that had injured him.

 

Springing to his feet, Arthur lunged as one of the great beasts rushed him again, his sword hit home on its fleshy stomach prizing a shocked roar from its gullet. The blow made the dragon spin of in an unexpected direction, it’s tail hitting the sword from Arthur’s arm with a great resounding smack that echoed through the woods. Arthur clutched his arm to himself, feeling the bones disjointed and awkward. The pain soared through him, nerves stinging all the way up his arm and into his chest causing his eyes to water.

 

Behind him he heard Owain’s cry of pain and a thump that could only be his body hitting the ground. Then suddenly there were two dragons facing Arthur. He backed up slowly keeping his injured arm against his chest. The two beasts hunched down, shoulders drawn up, their faces leering towards him and identical hisses sounding from their mouths. Arthur took another step back, trying to get as much distance from the animals as possible, then suddenly his feet lost their purchase on the ground.

 

He was tumbling down the face of the hill, falling backwards and rolling over himself. He tried to curl his body it to itself to keep his head and organs from taking the brunt of the damage. Then as quickly as it began he stopped, head hitting hard against a rock as he slid slowly to a stop at the bottom of incline.

 

The world around him was upside down, and his head ached but he was conscious of the two dragons who stalked towards him from the mouth of one of the caves. These two were different, one a deep burnished auburn and the other a cool wet green. They approached him slowly as if they had all the time in the world and Arthur himself was no more than a nuisance. Arthur reached for his sword but it was gone, lost somewhere on the ledge overlooking the nest.

 

The Dragons stopped a few feet from Arthur glaring at him with golden eyes, their warm breath drifting over his face and all the young prince could think was “I’ve made the wrong decision”.

 

The green dragon reared back sounding a call that seemed something between a neigh and the roar of a great lion. Its teeth were fierce and its muscles looked strong and impenetrable but Arthur met the creature’s stare head on, he would not die flinching.

 

“Dragoon!” A voice called louder even than the roar. The dragon sat his feet down again, standing as if at attention and moved away from Arthur looking behind him. The voice continued speaking in a rough tone but Arthur could not understand the language and it was only when the bearer of the voice appeared over the dragon’s shoulder that Arthur was able to see it was man.

 

It was a young man, not possibly any older than Arthur himself, though unlike Arthur he looked wild. His torso was bare, his only clothing a thin pair of leggings that reached down to his calves before cutting off. His hair was dark and wild, seeming to go off in more than one impossible direction and his face and body were littered with stray swabs of dirt.

 

Arthur stayed still and silent, having no idea what to make of the situation. The dragons were deadly as evidence by this knight’s bodies that lay at the top of the hill, his instincts told him to flee while they were distracted. However, his mind told him that he would not make it far if he attempted to run, the dragons would be upon him in a couple beats of their massive wings.

 

“bídsteallas anginn we’ ne gescéadnessa hwæt gewritu…”

The man or boy, really it was hard to discern age under the amazing amount of dirt collected on his face, continued to speak forcefully to the dragons in the strange language Arthur could not place. What was even more odd though was how the dragons seemed to understand and then respond in hushed tones that sounded like human voices. After a moment the two parties seemed to come to an understanding, the boy saying something forcefully and the dragons nodding before heading back towards the cave they’d come from.

 

“lástas cleofan” The boy called to the dragons still on the hill overlooking the nest.

 

With an unamused snort Arthur’s attackers flew up into the air before also heading towards one of the caves surrounding the small valley.

 

For a moment everything was still, the boy watching the dragons retreat back to their homes and Arthur catching his breath, letting himself calm. He was the crown prince of Camelot after all it would not do to panic further. He was brave always had been, cool in the face of danger and though he’d lost his friends, knights he’d trained with, he would be proud and strong to the last if this was the ending god chose for him.

 

The man turned his head back to Arthur and for a moment Arthur felt something familiar. A sensation like he’d forgotten something or should know the answer to whatever riddle had just been set in front of him.

 

The boy tilted his head to the side, seemingly thinking something over as he examined Arthur. He continued to stare for several long moments and in turn Arthur found himself examining the boy as well. He was slender but tall, his frame reaching up perhaps a bit further than Arthur’s own. His mess of hair was a black nest that held leaves and twigs and came down to just below his ears. He was clean shaven, which Arthur could only assume meant that he had someone looking after him or was more human than his appearance lead him to believe. His chest was thin but muscled as if he spent most days in action, and being surrounded by dragons Arthur felt it was safe to suppose he did. It was his eyes though that held his attention, they looked at him with a feral sense of cunning from behind ragged bangs and dirt. They were a captivating shade of blue, and seemed to convey his confusion and worry as well as if he had spoken.

 

“I thank you” Arthur spoke after the silence stretched the point he could no longer bare it. The boy did not answer though, instead looking away to the hills surrounding them, no doubt looking for other intruders. “I said” Arthur continued pushing himself up from the ground with his good arm, the boy turned back to him immediately couching slightly into a defensive position. “Hey now, I’m not going to hurt you” Arthur held out a hand in surrender, “I just wanted to thank you, you saved me, I’m not too big of a man to admit it. Those monsters would have killed me if not for you.”

 

The boy’s eyes narrowed, face scrunching and a deep growl emitting from his chest. “wé dierngewrit sé orcnéas” he snarled. Arthur’s eye widened and he found himself once again taking a step back and fumbling to the ground.

 

As his vision went black Arthur wondered when it was he’d become so clumsy. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

When Arthur awoke again he was in an unfamiliar place and his arm though still in pain was immobilized by a crudely made splint. He moved slightly judging the rest of his body for further injuries, beside a bump to the head, presumably from the last fall he’d taken, he seemed to be fine. The lack of any other injuries was a bit of a relief seeing as the last thing he could recall he was in a dragon den confronted by a snarling wild man of some sort. 

 

Pushing himself up with his good hand, Arthur took in his surroundings. He seemed to be alone in a small cave, no wild man or dragons in sight, but as he moved into a sitting position he noticed a thin copper string wound around his ankle and attached to one of the cave walls. No need for a guard then, he supposed, though it looked as if the chain could be cut easily enough. Luckily for him, he carried a small hunting knife in his boot. ‘ _Never let it be said that Arthur Pendragon is unprepared._ ’ The Prince thought as he jollily flipped open the knife and cut the thin chord.

 

“Aha!” he announced, truly quite pleased with himself. Honestly, how simple could someone be? His self-praise was cut short though as he watched the chain glow with an iridescent gold light and the split ends reattach themselves to one another. “Great…” Arthur sighed. Not only was he being held captive by a wild man but he obviously possessed some knowledge of magic. Nothing could ever be simple.

 

Arthur let himself relax, leaning his back against the cave wall. Taking a deep breath he tired to calm his tired mind. There was nothing to be done, at least not for the time being. There was no one here, no one to negotiate his release with and as far as Arthur knew the boy from earlier could be the only one around. His best bet was simply to wait for someone to appear and plead or bribe his way out of this mess. He was the prince of Camelot, there had to be something the man would want from him which he could exchange for his freedom.

 

With a sigh Arthur turned his head, truly taking in his surroundings for the first time. The cave he sat in was small, much too small for any of the dragons he’d seen to fit inside. Candles sat against the wall opposite him, different shapes and sizes all spilling spent wax onto the ground and casting the cave in a soft yellow glow. Towards the back of the cave sat several odd objects, a threadbare traveling pack, a large wooden bowl, a chair piled high with clothes and warm winter cloaks, more candles, books and a large tree branch sat in the corner. Those items combined with the fact that he was currently resting on a large pile of downy animal skins lead the Arthur to believe that he was sitting in the boy’s cave.

 

After a few still moments a loud splash alerted him to the presence of someone outside. His eyes were drawn to the mouth of the cave and outside to where the last of the sun’s rays were just dipping below the surrounding hills leaving the valley bathed in a misty blue light. The area was empty save for a small dragon, which was standing by the shore jumping from one leg to another as if waiting for something to emerge from the still water of the cove which sat in the center of the area.

 

The young dragon did not have to wait long, for a moment later something burst through the surface of the water. In the waning light Arthur could make out the pale skin of the boy’s back and the dark shag of his hair. The cave he sat in was only a few feet from the water’s edge and from his position, he watched as a clear stream sliced down the boy’s bowing back and down into the waistband of his soaked leggings.

 

The dragon made a small noise as if wanting to join the boy but too afraid to do so and from the water Arthur could hear the boy murmuring something in the same tongue he’d used earlier. After a moment the boy dove back under the water and the young dragon turned back heading towards one of the caves on the opposite side of the lake.

 

Arthur watched, expecting the boy to break through the water once more, but nothing came. The water laid still, not a ripple touching the surface. For a moment Arthur was impressed by the lung capacity the boy must have had, but after a few more seconds the admiration he felt turned to slowly building panic. No one could hold their breath that long, was the boy stuck? What if he’d gotten caught up in some plant or another and was unable to make his way to the surface? What if he was dying while Arthur watched?

 

Arthur felt worry seize him, there had to be something wrong, he’d been under too long.

 

Arthur got quickly to his feet, still feeling slightly woozy but unable to sit by while the boy died. Making his way to the mouth of the small cave he stumbled suddenly as his ankle pulled taught the forgotten chain around his ankle. “Great, just great” Arthur mumbled, looking around frantically for something to free himself from the chain. Seeing nothing, Arthur reached down with his good arm and started to pull at the copper thread.  It would not budge and the boy had still not breached the water. He took a deep breath preparing to call to the dragons for help, when suddenly there was a small sound of waves on the shore and Arthur looked up to see the boy standing knee deep in the dark water.

 

“Are you completely insane?!” Arthur barked, trying and failing to keep his eyes from trailing the water careening down the boy’s toned chest. Though, now that the boy was clean and his hair slicked back from his face, Arthur could see that he was not a boy so much as a young man like himself. “You could have drowned!” The boy…man, cocked his head to the side the corner of his mouth itching up into a smirk. “Not that I care obviously,” Arthur continued, his pulse easing back into its natural rhythm “far better for me to have one less person holding me captive.” The boy’s smirk dropped completely as he made his way out of the water towards the cave.

 

“You do understand me, don’t you?” Arthur asked as he sat back down on the pile of furs as the man entered the cave. The man did not react, but simply made his way to the back, stopping at the chair which held a messy pile of clothing. Without warning he slipped his breeches to the ground. Arthur turned away quickly to preserve the man’s modesty, after all Arthur was a gentleman even if the other man was not.

 

“ic i swence bist swá orgelword” the man said as he pulled on dry leggings and turned back to Arthur.

 

“I’m sorry…” Arthur shook his head, he didn’t understand at all. The language was like nothing he’d ever heard before. He was used to foreign tongues, visiting royals coming to court from other lands, traveling performers murmuring between acts, but he’d never heard anything like this.

 

The man ignored him, instead turning his attention towards the mouth of the cave where now Arthur could see a large auburn dragon approaching. He remembered the dragon from the earlier attack; it had leered at him at the base of the hill after he’d fallen. It’s rancid breath ghosting over his face and its body poised to strike. Now the beast walked proudly its head was held high and its wings tucked securely on its back.

 

“Ruby” Merlin motioned to the great dragon that had stopped at the mouth of the cave.

 

“Ruby…right” Arthur murmured, not able to stop staring at the creature.

 

The dragon hummed something below her breath, her eyes shifting cunningly towards Arthur before glancing back at the wild man in front of her. The boy shook his head emphatically. “Wit rim andettan hine lasts. Wit áh ágoaþ unéaðnesum ymb bródum” The man’s voice raised spilling out more foreign words. Arthur got a feeling they were arguing over him but without a grasp of the language was left mostly in the dark despite the dragon’s eyes flicking to him every few moments.

 

The dragon, now that Arthur was not running for his life he could admit, was a magnificent specimen, even if it was a great beast who as far as Arthur could tell was simply waiting for a chance to rip him limb from limb as she had his men. She stood taller than the opening of the man’s small cave, red burnished skin glistening in the candlelight escaping from the small cavern. Her mouth was large and its fierce pointed teeth peeked out past her lips each time she spoke to the man in her dulcet tones. Her muscles were pronounced and well defined from what Arthur could see and were he less afraid for his life, the young prince thought her could almost be in awe of the beast.

 

But for all her obvious power she seemed to be differing to the man in everything, her large head was slightly bowed as if in respect and when the man growled at some suggestion she made the dragon took a step back showing her remorse. It all left Arthur more puzzled than before. The man was not just some wild child who had been taken in by the creatures. Indeed, he seemed to be their leader.

 

After a few moments and more abstract language, the beast, Ruby turned and headed away from the cave. The man watched cautiously as the dragon made her way along the shore of the small cove and into one of the larger dens lining the area.

 

“Who are you?” Arthur wondered aloud, still not all that sure that the man understood him.

 

The man sighed tiredly and turned around to look at Arthur. He said nothing but tilted his head to the side indicating that he had heard Arthur’s query. Looking upon the man, Arthur was struck once again by the sensation that he was overlooking something; there was something so familiar about this man. Something in him screamed at him to recall it, but each time he grasped at the fading wisps of memory it seemed to move further away from him.

 

“Camelot” The man said pointing to the gold dragon sewn into his red cape.

 

“You know of Camelot?” Perhaps the man was known to him.

 

“Soldier” the man’s eyes narrowed.

 

“No…well yes,” Arthur acknowledged, not sure whether or not admitting he was not only a solider but the Prince of Camelot would better his situation or worsen it. “But I do not mean you any harm, my MEN did not mean you any harm, we were looking for a band of druids.” The boy looked sharply at him at the mention of druids but said nothing further. “You had no reason to kill them. My men would have done nothing to you.” Arthur seethed as the reality of his men’s deaths came to settle in his mind. It was his fault of course, their lives were his responsibility they were HIS knights, he’d trained them and picked them to accompany him and ultimately lead them to their deaths. But this man seemed to have some sense of control over the beasts that had killed them and that was reason enough for Arthur to blame him. It did not matter a jot that he’d stopped the dragons from killing Arthur himself.

 

The man stared at Arthur but did not offer any other words and Arthur was not sure if it was due to him having a limited vocabulary or not caring to converse with him any further. The man nodded his head once before sitting down on the pallet of furs next to Arthur and pulled a dagger from a concealed pocket in his leggings, placing it beneath a crudely made rabbit fur pillow and laying down to sleep.

 

“What do you think you are doing?” Arthur asked. The boy simply looked over at him with a thoroughly unimpressed expression before turning over and covering himself with a thin deer skin blanket.

 

Arthur sighed the prince did not share a bedroll with savages. It just wasn’t done. However, he doubted his question was understood and even if it was he doubted the man would move. So with a aggravated huff, Arthur moved himself as far to the opposite edge of the bed as possible before laying back down, making sure to cradle his injured arm over his chest.

 

 

Merlin awoke early as usual, just as the first of the sun’s rays were peaking down into the valley he’d called home for the past sixteen years. The dawn looked the same as ever bright pink and orange reflecting over their small piece of the world, their safe harbor in a world torn asunder by the purge. What was not common was the warm breath ghosting over the side of his face, Merlin reached up to his blade resting beneath his pillow turning sharply before taking in the site of the Camelot soldier he’d saved yesterday.

 

For the life of him, Merlin was not sure why he’d intervened on the man’s behalf. Of course he was Dragonlord and with that did come the right to do so, but even Ruby had been surprised by his actions. The men had posed an obvious threat being in fealty to the kingdom who had slain so many of their kind, including Merlin’s own parents. But something had made him act, something inside him had screamed as he’d seen the blonde head rolling down the hillside and into their den. Looking at the man now Merlin still did not know what it was that had warranted such a visceral response.

 

Merlin could admit the man was handsome, he was not blind and he had seen enough of the druids to know that his beauty was not common. Blonde hair and large blue eyes over a slender nose and lush red lips left Merlin breathless at first sight. Of course the prat had ruined it by speaking. Seemingly alarmed that Merlin could have hurt himself and then going on about how it wouldn’t have been a great loss if he had. Not to mention the obvious frustration at having to share a bed with the likes of him, never mind that it was Merlin’s bed in the first place.

 

Maybe he’d have the upstart solider sleep on the cold ground and then see how proud he was.

 

To the south Merlin heard Brúne call out the alert that the druid’s emissary was approaching. Merlin sat up running a quick hand through his hair and cursing his luck that it was already the second week of the month. Just his luck that the day after he’d taken someone captive the druids would be poking their noses around. Though, he had to admit the brood had benefited from the protection the society offered. He just hated that it was always him left to deal with the druids themselves, but as no one else could speak the language of the dragons and their clan was now leery of any humans that were not Merlin himself there was no other choice.

 

Merlin took one last look at the sleeping soldier feeling once again a mixture of annoyance and protectiveness that he could not explain, before head towards the entrance to the cave.

 

Once outside he could see slender figure rowing a small boat into the cove from the great lake beyond. A slight breeze brought the scent of lavender, honey and a sting of metal towards him and Merlin smiled as his friend let her ferry beach on the shore.

 

“Good Morning” Merlin grinned, extending a hand to help the young woman from her boat.

 

“Emyrs” she greeted.

 

“I have asked you not to call me that, Morgana” Merlin let her hand drop as she set both feet down on dry land.

 

“But it’s your name, you may as well get used to it.” Smiling coyly Morgana handed him a large pack no doubt Merlin would be sending her home with most of what it contained. His friend meant well but Merlin had parted ways with the druids a long time ago and for more reasons than she truly knew. “Where is everyone? It’s very quiet for the time of the morning.”

 

“Ah yes. Well we had a bit of a run-in with some soldiers yesterday.”

“Soldiers?” Morgana asked, obviously alarmed, “Mercian soldiers, this far out?”

 

“Not Mercian” Merlin shook his head as he lead Morgana further onto the shore setting the pack Morgana had brought beneath a large tree and motioning her to sit. “They were from Camelot.”

 

Morgana looked up in surprise as Merlin took his place next to her against the trunk of the tree. “Camelot?”

 

“Yes, I believe you’re familiar with it” Merlin smirked.

 

Merlin sat down beside his friend, she’d stilled at the mention of Camelot. He knew she came from there too, that she’d been the king’s ward and had fled scared of her magic and of the likelihood of her being put to death because of it. She never talked of her old life, though she did mention once that she remembered Merlin as the boy who always trailed her bullheaded brother around when they were younger.

 

Merlin remembered bits and pieces of his life before his family fled, not much though, not enough to miss the kingdom as it was apparent Morgana did at times. He could recall their home, a series of rooms set aside for him and his family in the palace. He could recollect the sounds of his parents sleeping across the room from him at night, and the carved dragon his father had made him which sat on the window sill near his bed. He remembered trips to the hatchery in bits and pieces, the solid feeling of the heavy oak doors as he pushed them open, the shadow of his best friend looming over him as they entered. The feeling of each new life as it cracked though its shell and into the sunlight was easiest to recall, perhaps because he still got to experience those feelings now with each new hatching. Merlin could recall times in the place called Camelot but he’d long forgotten any of the emotions associated with them, it had been so long ago, his life was here in the forest now and would always be.

 

Morgana’s experience was recent though and her emotions fresh.

 

“Th-they were killed?”

 

‘Yes, all but one” Merlin nodded as he flipped back the flap of the pack Morgana had brought with her.

 

“One got away?” Morgana’s voice was surprised and when Merlin looked to her he could see the warring emotions of relief and fear on her face. “Why aren’t you packing? You need to move Merlin; if he was a soldier surely you know he will bring more back here to avenge his brothers.”

 

“He didn’t get away” Merlin shrugged as he pulled out a large book covered in druid symbols. “What is this?”

 

“A gift from Aglain, what do you mean he didn’t escape?”

 

“I thought I told you to tell him I do not want any more of his gifts” Merlin sneered.

 

“You know he only wants to help you develop your gift, now stop avoiding my

question.”

 

“He wants to make a weapon of me” Merlin tossed the book away digging back into the pack. “He’s in my den.” Merlin pulled out a pair of sturdy boots looking at the curiously, “what are these for?”

 

“What do you mean he’s in your den?” Morgana scolded, “Are you insane?”

 

“Why do people keep asking me that?” Merlin pondered running a hand over the soft leather of the boot.

 

“Merlin, focus” she turned to him, laying a hand on his shoulder, “Are you trying to tell me that you have a soldier from Camelot tied up in your den?”

 

“Think he’s a knight actually,” Merlin smirked, “He had on one of those red cloaks with a dragon on it.” Merlin sat the boots aside to keep, “ironic isn’t it,” Merlin whispered as he looked around the small valley he and his family called home, “marking themselves with dragons when they’re responsible for so many deaths.”

 

Morgana sighed heavily, no doubt used to his short attention span at this point. It was part of being a protector, having to scan for threats to his family, making sure their perimeter was secure. After their run in yesterday Merlin was going to have to place some new wards to keep travelers away. He’d grown lazy and complacent and now two men were dead and one spoiled knight was sleeping in his bed.

 

“Merlin” Morgana called his attention back, “What are you going to do with the knight?”

 

“Can’t let him go, the hatching is too soon. We can’t move the mares for at least a month, maybe two.”

 

“So you’re just going to keep him until the hatchlings are born and then let him go?”

 

“Only choice”

 

“How does Ruby feel about this?”

 

Merlin snorted as he smiled, “How does Ruby feel about anything regarding humans? Weary and distrustful.”

 

“But she agreed to let the man go?” Merlin nodded, “Have you told him why you are holding him captive?”

 

Merlin felt heat rising to his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t talked to the soldier in his own language. He’d been taught as a child and further developed his speech in the time he’d spent living with the druids. He was fluent, if not always mindful of customs and manners. The man though, he’d almost spoken to him when he’d seen his face painted with worry as he emerged from the lake, but the man was such a…prat. He’d blamed the dragons for the death of his men, not the fact that they had come poking into dangerous territory and pulled weapons first. He’d acted concerned but then insisted it would not be such a bad thing had he drowned. The man confused him as did the strange pull that had lead Merlin to spare his life in the first place.

 

“You’ve not told him?” Morgana continued, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow rising, “what have you said to him?” Merlin avoided her gaze, “you’ve not spoken to him?” sometimes Merlin could not help but wonder if Morgana was just a bit of a mind-reader. Or perhaps he was just that easy to read. “But how could you avoid talking to him, he must have spoken to you, asked you questions…”

 

Merlin sighed, he knew she would not let the topic go until she was satisfied, “I have only spoken in dragon tongue.”

 

“He thinks you don’t understand him?” Morgana laughed, “Oh this is too fun.”

 

“I’m glad to amuse you, my lady”

 

“Oh, don’t be like that.” She smiled, “look in the bag; I’ve brought you something you’ll appreciate.”

 

 

Arthur awoke to the early morning sun streaming into the cave and hushed voices coming near. His bed was stiff and smelt wet as if the sheets had not been allowed to dry properly he would have to speak to his manservant about it once he’d had breakfast. He hoped the smell hadn’t seeped into his skin; he had no time for a proper bath before training.

 

“Uh hmm” someone coughed

 

“Bring me breakfast Cedric and don’t dawdle this time, I’ve got an audience with the king before training.” Arthur mumbled rubbing the sleep from his eye.

 

“folgeres sámbryce mec ðu bist rúdan æt” 

 

That was not Cedric… Arthur sprang up, sitting stiffly in the bed and looking over to where the wild man stood near the mouth of the cave, arms crossed over his chest and looking at Arthur expectantly.

 

“Where…” Arthur paused as the past day’s events once again rushed to the forefront of his thoughts. “What do you want?”

 

The boy did not answer, instead marching over to the wall and detaching the thin chain that held Arthur captive with a simple twitch of his wrist.

 

“Oh just my luck, a feral man with magic” Arthur grumbled, “of course.”

 

The wild man paid him no attention, reaching his hand towards Arthur’s ankle and detaching the chain from where it looped around his leg. For a moment Arthur thought he was being let go and a sense of elation ran through him. It was short lived though as the man stepped forward wrapping the end of the chain around Arthur’s wrist. It reattached itself into a continuous loop just tight enough for Arthur not to be able to slip out.

 

“Not like I could run away with all the dragons” he sighed.

 

The man paused looking up at Arthur, searching his face for what Arthur did not know but the young prince could not help but feel that sense of familiarity once again as he looked into the boy’s deep blue eyes. There was something there he was sure of it, as unsure and wrong-footed as Arthur felt he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of belonging somewhere deep within himself. The boy looked away after a moment and wrapped the chain around his own wrist so that they were attached each to one end of the magical chain.

 

“Wait a moment,” Arthur paused noticing the blue embroidered neckerchief wrapped around the boy’s neck, “where did you get that?” The man had not been wearing it the night before and Arthur was certain he hadn’t made it himself why he slept. For one thing there were no scraps of fabric or needles around the cave as far as he’d seen and secondly it looked delicate as if a woman had taken her time crafting the piece.

 

The man reached up, covering the item protectively as if he was afraid Arthur had plans to take it. “No…” Arthur stumbled over his words; wanting to reassure the boy but also knowing whatever he said would more than likely fall on deaf ears. The boy seemed to understand though and loosened his hold on the fabric, patting it down as if concerned he’d wrinkled it.

 

The man was truly a sight to behold and Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle. The boy stood barefoot, dark brown breeches clinging to his skin from his waist down to his calves, bare-chested but where the neckerchief fell. His hair though now free of dirt and debris thanks to his swim last night still stuck up in odd directions and the cleanliness of his face calling attention to his smooth cheek bones and large blue eyes. There was something about him, something almost endearing despite the threat Arthur knew the boy could pose.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

The man looked at him again with an assessing look before turning and leading Arthur out into the bright early morning sun.

 

Arthur climbed carefully form the cave, making his way slowly down to the sand of the small cove’s shore while taking care not to jostle his injured arm. He could feel his health returning, his head no longer ached as it had the night before, instead settling into a dull thud beating along with his heart. He felt steadier on his feet; the weariness washed away due to a good night of sleep and though his arm still ached in the stiff prison of the splint the pain was manageable.

 

Once out of the cave, Arthur took a moment to truly take in his surroundings, his vision no longer clouded by panic or the dark of night. The hills rose up around them, forming an almost perfect circle, the only space being a small area across from the man’s cave where the larger lake fed into the small cove. The cove seemed to be at the heart of the den, a placid turquoise area perhaps the size of the courtyard at the castle. Around the cove and between the large caves lining the sides of the hills the ground was laden with plush green grass, deep and wet with morning dew. To his left sat a corpse of trees, and underneath one of those trees sat a woman sat.

 

His breath stilled as he took in the dark wavy hair that hung across her face as he read from a book in her lap. When she looked up the smile that had graced her lips fell.

 

“Morgana” Arthur whispered as the woman stood. He could not move, the shock of seeing his sister alive rushing through his consciousness clouding the need to do anything but be there. She walked slowly towards them, eyes wide and afraid and Arthur could not for the life of him understand what it was she would be frightened of.

 

Unless…unless she was a captive here as well, worried that the man who held Arthur captive was going to harm her.

 

“You!” he turned to the man who looked quite surprised at the ire in Arthur’s eyes, “what are you doing with her?” he yelled, reaching out with his good arm and dragging him forcefully forward, “If you have harmed her I swear on the crown that I will see you dead!”

 

“Arthur!” Morgana cried.

 

“Do you hear me?” Arthur gripped the man’s neckerchief drawing him closer still, “if you have hurt my sister there will be no force in this world that will save you.”

 

The boy’s eyes widened, as Morgana finally made her way to them forcing Arthur back releasing his hold on the man “Arthur, no.” She panted, turning his face to look at her, “he’s my friend” Arthur’s brow furrowed in confusion, friend? How could he be her friend?

 

He backed away slowly until the chain around his wrist once again pulled taught.

 

“hé ne canne béo…”

 

The three stood still, all looking at one another. Arthur could feel his guilt and desperation melting away as he looked upon his sister. It had been three years, three years since she’d disappeared. They’d had a funeral, their father, the king, had cried beside the pyre that held no body, falling into a melancholy he’d never fully recovered from. Yet here she was, alive and apparently not being held against her will. His grief quickly turned to anger.

 

“Where have you been?” He hissed, trying to remain calm.

 

“Arthur…” she reached out to him.

 

“No!” he snatched his arm out her reach. _  
_

 

“Arthur, I’m sorry, you don’t understand.”

 

“No I don’t!” his heart beat faster, as a felt heat climb to his face. “Is someone holding you here?” he tried to ask calmly.

 

“No” Morgana whispered, seeming to know how badly that word would hurt him.

 

“How could you not send word to us, how could you not let me know that you were alive?”

 

“Arthur…”

 

“Did you not think I would worry? That I would not blame myself for having not gone with you?”

 

“Oh Arthur” she strode forward again, this time wrapping her arms around him and leaving him no way to escape. “I am sorry, I…” she looked back at him, letting him see the tears leaving tracks down her cheeks. “Arthur, I have magic.”

 

“Wh-what?”

 

“I always have. Those dreams…”

 

“Why couldn’t you tell me?” He asked, feeling tears prickling behind his eyes, “Did you not think I would protect you? You are my sister.”

 

She began to back away but Arthur raised his arm, fitting it comfortingly around her back, not ready to give up the closeness just yet.

 

“All this time I thought…” Arthur allowed himself a moment of weakness, resting his head on his long lost sister’s shoulder and breathing in the familiar scent he never thought to experience again. He was angry, so angry. It felt like he could feel his blood heating as it rushed through him burning and cauterizing the veins as it flowed. But He was relieved too, so relieved that he no longer had to carry this aching weight that had surrounded his heart in the past three years. It had enveloped him suffocating him with the feeling of impotent worthlessness. After all, how could he be expected to rule over Camelot when he was unable to even protect his sister?

 

But here she was.

 

Leaning back, he raised his head to look at her. She looked much the same as she had the last time he’d seen her; her dark hair falling in natural waves down her back and over her shoulders, her fierce green eyes as bright as he recalled from his childhood. She stood with the same grace she had at court and her skin was still the same pale perfection it has always been. It seemed unfair to him that she would look the same; that she would not have changed in a profound way in the absence of her family, of him.

 

Arthur had surely changed. He had just come of age, just been crowned prince and eventual heir to the throne when Morgana had disappeared. Since her loss he’d become more focused, trained harder, developing the mental and physical prowess that would allow him to never again lose someone close to him. He’d become colder he supposed, not many could say they were close to the prince, not even his knights, that kind of attachment only lead to weakness and disappointment. After having his sister, his only true friend, ripped from him in such a way it seemed pointless to devote himself any more than was strictly necessary, but what now? Morgana was here, living and breathing and looking at him with a lightness he’d never known her to possess. Like all her worries had been carried away and discarded once she left Camelot.

 

Arthur was no fool, he’d seen the stress and worry that painted his sister’s features before she’d disappeared. He knew of her dreams, the ones that left her screaming and crying in the night. He’d watched her servant running to and fro in the depths of the night with tinctures and medicines meant to sooth her. Something had been wrong; it had been more and more evident as the days passed. Her eyes held more worry and her shoulders slumped when no one was looking but Arthur. It is only now though, seeing her ease and openness that he wished he had done more to help her. Talked to her, demanded to know what was wrong. More than anything he wished that she had been able to know that above all things he would have protected her.

 

“cyningæðe hine” The wild boy moved suddenly, unwrapping the chain from his wrist and handing the length of magic threat to Morgana.

 

“You know I can’t” Morgana said, breaking eye contact with Arthur at last.

 

“Wait, how can you understand him?” Arthur asked, “What tongue is he speaking?”

 

“I-“ Morgana started looking again at the boy whose eyes had turned wary and seemed determined not to look in Arthur’s direction. “I can’t.” she answered at last, though Arthur was not sure to whom she was talking.

 

“He doesn’t seem to understand me, only speaks to me in that harsh language.”

 

Morgana nodded squaring her shoulders and glaring at the man, the wild man stepped back, as if unsure how to react. Which if you asked Arthur was pretty ridiculous, sure Morgana had always been a force to be reckoned with but this man commanded an entire herd of dragons.

 

After a moment the boy sighed, letting his shoulders drop. “I understand you just fine.” He answered.

 

Arthur stilled for a moment, the boy’s voice sounded so different as it slid over the familiar vowels and consonants.  Smoother and, well not familiar but it felt right as he spoke as if he was just another one of the young men of Camelot and not a savage at all.

 

“You’ve understood me all this time?”

 

“Of course, I’m not feral” The boy answered.

 

“Could have fooled me” Arthur answered once again taking in his uncouth appearance.

 

“Perhaps I just don’t like speaking to complete areses”

 

“You can’t talk to me like that!”

 

“I’m not one of you subjects _sire_ , you are in my den, I’ll speak how I wish” with that the man turned away, heading back to his cave “Take him Morgana”

 

Morgana bit her lip looking at Arthur a moment before turning to catch up to the man. “Emrys!”

 

The man, apparently named Emrys stopped, waiting for her to catch up, but stood with his arms over his chest a clear indication of how unhappy he was with the situation. Not that Arthur could blame him; it was one thing to hold a knight captive. It was entirely different to find it was the crown prince you were holding. Not that Arthur had any sympathy for him; the boy obviously had no respect for his station.

 

Morgana was gesturing wildly, her subdued ease forgotten it seemed as she tried to explain something to the young man. Emrys himself looked irritated but understanding and for a moment Arthur’s mind harkened back to a time when he had a best friend, someone he could argue with like that.

 

“You’re being insufferable!” Morgana raised voice echoed. The boy replied more calmly, not loud enough for Arthur to hear and after a few moments of Arthur stuck being agitated that he was being left out of a conversation that was obviously about him and marveling at the fact that Morgana was here, alive and well, the pair turned coming back in his direction.

 

“Are you done pretending I’m not here?” Arthur asked and was surprised to see the man smirk.

 

“Arthur” Morgana wound her arms around his uninjured arm leaning into him. Arthur would never admit how good it felt, how grounded and whole it made him feel. “I am sorry but you’re going to have to stay here.”

 

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Morgana, you know I can’t do that, I’m the crown prince I have responsibilities.”

 

“Well brother dear, I’m afraid they’re going to have to wait for a couple of months.”

 

“You can’t be serious.” Arthur drawled, “You want me to stay out here in the woods with you and some wild sorcerer for two months? I never knew you cared.”

 

Morgana smirked slapping him playfully on the back of the head, “Not with me, I have to return to the druids or they’ll send someone looking for me.”

 

“Wait you expect me to stay here with him?” Arthur motioned to the barely dressed man. “You’ve got to be joking.”

 

“Believe me, it’s not my first choice either, _sire.”_

 

“Shut it you, you should be so lucky.”

 

“Can you really be this much of a prat?” the boy turned to him, hands splayed on his hips.

 

“I am the prince,” Arthur turned pointing at himself and then at Emrys “you are a wild sorcerer who lives with dragons in a cave. I cannot stay here with you.”

 

“Well you should have thought about that before you and your men blundered in here waiving you swords about!”

 

“Don’t you mention my men!”

 

“Why not you mention my family!”

 

“Your family? I don’t know if you’ve noticed _Em_ rys but they’re dragons…”

 

“They’re more intelligent than you!”

 

“Boys!” Morgana yelled; in what Arthur could only assume was not the first bid to get their attention as she accompanied it with a small burst of magic that sent them sprawling back from one another. “That is quite enough of that, thank you.”

 

Arthur clutched his injured arm where it had hit the ground to his chest and looked over at Emrys who was similarly slumped on the sand beside him. They glared at each other for a moment before Morgana sighed once more sitting herself daintily on the sand between them and reaching for Arthur’s arm.

 

“Really Mer-“she paused as the man glared at her, “Emrys, a splint? I knew you were rubbish at healing magic but this is a bit ridiculous.”

 

Emrys rolled his eyes, a slight smile forming on his face, and Arthur couldn’t help but commiserate. There was no man who would not give into Morgana’s charms in the end. She reached over unbinding the cloth that held the splint around Arthur’s arm with tender care that Arthur could not recall her having ever bestowed upon him before. It seemed time away from the palace had mellowed her in some way, perhaps allowed her to care for others more now that she no longer had to worry about protecting herself. The thought made Arthur feel hollow. He wished, not for the first time that he could go back in time and change how things between them had gone. Only this time instead of stopping her from going to the druids that night, he would have helped her, seen her laid in the hands of someone who could help. Though he was glad that she found that, even without his assistance, he couldn’t help but wish that he could have been part of getting her to this new peaceful place.

 

She laid the splint aside, hissing at the damage she found there. “Looks like you made a bit of a mess of this Arthur; didn’t father ever teach you to protect your sword arm?”

 

“No” Arthur breathed in through his nose as Morgana ran her fingertips over his broken arm, “he taught me never to surrender.”

 

Morgana looked at him sadly, as if she expected as much before placing the palm of her hand to his arm and whispering a few foreign words. Arthur watched as his sisters eyes turned gold and then screamed loudly falling back into the sand as the bone popped back into place and mended.

 

“Shh...Its alright, it’s done.” Morgana whispered letting a hand pass through his hair.

 

“W-warn a guy will you?” he breathed as the pain faded and left his arm feeling bruised but usable.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon-language:
> 
> “folgeres sámbryce mec ðu bist rúdan æt” - Not only me you’re rude to
> 
> “hé ne canne béo…” - He can't be
> 
> “cyningæðe hine” - Take him


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Merlin has always been fine on his own, he lives with the dragons, the only man tolerated among them for any amount of time. He seethes in his hatred of Camelot and Uther Pendragon; he drowns in the memory of the night his parents were taken from him, the night his father used the last of his strength to save him from the same fate. He takes joy in the birth of each new hatchling and takes pride in his only remaining family as their numbers grow and they pass on their wisdom to the next generation.

 

He was convinced to leave them for a short time when he was younger. Taken aside by Aglain and taught the Druid ways, taught magic from a book and to speak fluently in a language other than that of the dragons. The language had come easily, since Merlin had used it in his youth. Magic from a book was simple for Merlin but in his opinion pointless, he’d always been able to produce the same results without the use of words. Aglain insisted the words offered control over his magic, bending the power to his will with more ease. Merlin, though he indicated he understood, never really agreed. He’d always had control, always felt his power as simply an extension of himself not some wild spirit that needed to be tied down.

 

Learning the druid’s ways however had been something Merlin was not adept at. They were soft spoken; their movements easy and flowing as if they were part of the mist that so often clouded their camp. Merlin was clumsy, he walked with heavy steps as his brood often did and he spoke his mind. He was a Dragonlord and as such he had been brought up by Ruby and Kilgharrah to always do as his conscience dictated and speak without fear. The druids seemed taken aback by his rash ways at first, but over the year and a half Merlin lived with them they seemed to accept it, even find it humorous.

 

Merlin probably could have stayed there for much longer and been happy. Perhaps even become a full member of their tribe, settled down and had a life among others of his species. He doubted the dragons would resent him for such action. But as it turned out, the druids were not so different from the men of Camelot after all.

 

Merlin had just celebrated his sixteenth birthday when Aglain came to him. He’d been in his tent, the one set aside for him at the very edge of the settlement. It was just past nightfall and Merlin had been sitting on his pallet, the small dragon his father had carved for him so long ago twisting in his hands. Aglain’s appearance was no shock as he flipped back the flap of the tent. His steps were easy to differ from the others around, his strides ever purposeful. Merlin had raised his eyes to acknowledge his presence, but did not speak. He’d been deep in thought of his parents, trying to remember the exact blue of his mother’s eyes and the unique timber of his father’s voice. It had been the anniversary of their deaths; no doubt Aglain had picked this night to talk to him deliberately.

 

“Merlin,” he’d begun, “I feel it is time that you heard the prophecy.”

 

Merlin laughed, though it sounded hollow, Ruby had warned him of this. “I have no need for prophecy Aglain. They are fluid and ever changing, no prophecy you believe offers anything other than vague suggestion.”

 

“Merlin” Aglain reached out, setting a calming hand on his knee, “You are destined to do many great things. You are the one, the most powerful sorcerer who has ever lived.”

 

“So I’ve been told” Merlin nodded, “and what is it you would have me do?”

 

“Camelot must be set to rights. The kingdom must be taken and given back to the old ways, to the powers that made it great.”

 

“You want me to conquer Camelot for you, is that all?” Merlin laughed again.

 

“This is no joke.” Aglain intoned, “this is what must be, it is said that you and the once and future king will rule over the land, that you will once again bring peace and magic back to Camelot.”

 

“Do you forget who raised me Aglain?” Merlin’s voice had turned harsh at this. “The great dragon has seen many things and the prophecy you speak of is only one such outcome of a hundred thousand decisions that I and others must make.”

 

“It is the one that matters; you can set your path to become our champion.”

 

“You don’t want a champion” Merlin answered, as he stood and started collecting his belongings, “you want a weapon.”

 

As Merlin moved around the tent gathering his possessions and placing them into his father’s old pack, he waited for denial.

 

“Your power was not given to you without a reason.” Aglain finally answered.

 

So there it was. Merlin sighed, “I had hoped that Ruby had been wrong” Merlin turned to Aglain has he slipped his arms through the shoulder straps of his pack. “I had hoped that you only wanted to teach me, to help guide me and perhaps learn from me.” He shook his head sadly, “She said that you had reasons. That you would not take in someone like me without cause, with out wanting to use me in some way. She will be glad to know she was right”

 

“Merlin, stop” Aglain had laid a hand on his shoulder. “We do care for you, of course, we enjoy having you here, but this cause it is bigger than us, bigger than you. Your power can overtake Uther Pendragon; can bring back the Camelot that we all once loved. One that is fair and just and full of the magic of our people.”

 

“No” Merlin brushed the older man’s hand from his shoulder, “You do not want me to bring back the Camelot of old, you want me to revenge past wrongs, to kill the king and take his kingdom.” He glared, “Do you not imagine that I have thought of that myself, that I have not envisioned myself seeking retribution for my friends, for my parents?”

 

Aglain was silent and Merlin sighed, “But what then? After I have brought the wrath of every man, woman and beast that has been wronged by Uther down to bare on him, what then? I would not be whole; I would not have my parents back or my brood their lost children. I would just be another warlord on a throne I was not fit for. My powers are not meant for that, and no matter what your prophecy says I will not let them lead me to murder.”

 

Merlin had left that night, and though Aglain and several other druids had attempted to draw him back, he had never let them.

 

Now there was a man living in his cave, the son of the very man the druids had wanted him to kill. The man who when he was a boy was Merlin’s best friend. ‘ _No matter how far away you are or how long you are parted, you will always love one another. That is what best friend means’_ his father’s words whispered in his head, he could only hope this wouldn’t end in blood, his or Arthur’s. 

 

 

It was later the next day, after Morgana had left to return to the druids, where she had apparently been all this time. (God, how was he ever going to tell his father?) That the dragons started to come out of their caves and go about what he could only assume was their normal routine.

 

Two of them, large beasts with hard thick hides, meandered around the valley’s edges, barely visible on the high surrounding hills from where Arthur sat. They seemed to be on century, guarding against any more unlikely visitors.

 

A horrible cold feeling shook through him as Arthur thought of his lost men, men who if not his friends, had at least been loyal and true to Camelot. He’d trained them and trained with them and they had followed him without question. They had been guided by him and he’d lead them to their deaths. Arthur felt such shame thinking about what their devotion had gotten them, what his foolishness had lead them to. It was his fault. He’d been so blinded by his hatred of the druids that he’d pushed just that little farther, despite rumors of dragons and only having three men with him. What did he expect to happen? He was such a fool, nothing but a spoiled, silly boy who could not look past his own prejudices to look after his men.

 

His father had always told Arthur that men dying for him were to be expected. That when his men looked at him they saw more than just the prince, but the very ideals they fought for. He was an emblem not a man, and the sooner he accepted that the happier he would be. Despite the words though, Arthur had never gotten comfortable with the idea of someone spilling their blood to save him.

 

That did not try people from doing so of course.

 

“Blódseten feoht Daisy!”  Arthur looked up as Emrys stepped up to the mouth of the cave beside him, obviously addressing a couple of young dragons who were wrestling beside the water. “Last ealdorcearu sé ambihthús” 

 

The dragon cubs separated and bowed slightly before turning and running into one of the caves on the far side of the cove.

 

“Did you really name one of the dragons Daisy?” Arthur asked incredulously.

 

The boy rolled his eyes, “I don’t name them, the family does.”

 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, “You do realize they’re dragons right?”

 

“Our traditions are just as old and meaningful as yours”

“You can’t be serious” Arthur wanted to laugh, the idea of comparing Camelot, with all of its courtly manner and politics to a…well a den of beasts was rather ridiculous.

 

“Well obviously we can’t all be as civil and refined as those of Camelot.” Emrys spat, “After all, where would we pile all of the bodies?”

 

Arthur was still for a moment as the wild sorcerer turned walking out of the cave and on to the white sand of the beach. “What is that supposed to mean?” Arthur called before following him.

 

The boy continued walking, turning away from the beach and towards the dense patch of trees setting before the slope of the hills. The boy’s back was strung tight, as if he was keeping himself back, leading on in an attempt not to let the pent up frustration snap and turn itself on Arthur.

 

Unluckily for him, Arthur was in the mood for a fight. “Hey! I am speaking to you!”

 

“Leave me alone Arthur, go back to the cave.” Emrys called over his shoulder.

 

“I am the prince of Camelot, if you think I am going to start taking orders from you, you are sorely mistaken. You and your dragons may be able to keep me here against my will but I will not be obeying the command of a wild man cum sorcerer.” The boy stopped, taking deep breaths but still keeping his back to Arthur. “Now I demand that you answer for your slander towards my kingdom.”

 

Emrys stood still for a second more before slowly turning towards Arthur. What the prince saw made his heart skip a beat. Emrys’ eyes were wide and enflamed in a ring of gold that shimmered with power the likes of which Arthur had never seen before. His mouth formed a sharp sneer showing off two sharp canines and his posture had changed from bow tight to something resembling the dragons that had stood over him the day before, intimidating with a restrained strength. The boy looked wild, no indeed feral and so damn…so damn beautiful that Arthur had to concentrate of keeping his breathing under control.

 

“Slander?” Emrys growled, “Your kingdom does not need my help with that. The killing of innocent women and children has secured its place as one of the most despicable pieces of land to ever be ruled over by a tyrant king.”

 

Arthur reached for his sword before forgetting he was no longer armed. “Who are you to cast disparages, a wild refugee who lives in the woods with beasts?!”

 

“A wild beast is better than a pampered prince who stands aside as peaceful people are massacred”

 

“You know nothing of my life or my kingdom!”

 

“And you know nothing of magic!”  Emrys’ shot a hand out and Arthur found himself unceremoniously pushed to the ground by an unseen force.

 

“I know enough” Arthur answered, from his place in the dirt as he braced himself for Emrys’ next strike.

 

“You are impossible” Emrys sighed, and to his surprise Arthur watched as the fiery gold cleared from the boy’s eyes leaving only the natural vivid blue.

 

“Well if I’m so impossible, why don’t you let me go?”

 

“I will” he answered, taking a seat on an overturned log not far from Arthur, “As soon as the eggs are hatched.”

 

“You have hatchlings?” Arthur found his interest turned from provoking the sorcerer.

 

“Yes, and they have another month or so before they will be ready to break from their shells.” Understanding suddenly dawned on the young prince, “So you see,” Emrys continued, “I can’t let you go, not yet. I have to make sure the brood is safe first. Once they are hatched and can withstand the long journey to a new nest, I’ll let you go.”

 

“And how long until they are strong enough?”

 

“After birth, one month I’d say.”

 

“After that you’re just going to let me return?” Arthur asked, “Even though I know of your _family’s_ existence?”

 

“Yes” The boy said, as he stood whipping damp mud from his short breeches.

 

It was odd to Arthur, that he believed him. That the boy’s voice held no conceit or even any clue that he ever thought of doing otherwise. “Then why were my men killed? Why not hold them as well?”

 

Emrys sighed, turning to look at Arthur with sad eyes, “They drew swords. Ruby was out watching over the young ones. What would you do to protect the children of your land?”

 

With that Emrys departed, leaving Arthur sat on the ground where he’d fallen.

 

 

Arthur spent most of the rest of that day sitting near the trees overlooking the beach. Once or twice a young dragon got up enough courage to walk towards him, seeming to be encouraged by one or two others who looked on with wide golden eyes. Once they got within arms reach though they would shiver and then scamper back to their friends as if it had achieved some great feat.

 

At first Arthur thought that they must just be shy or perhaps so unused to human interaction that they found him to be an oddity, something new and exciting. However as the sun reached higher into the sky and a thick heat began to permeate the air, a loud splash echoed across the den followed by what sounded like the laughs of several young children. Arthur turned to see Emrys surrounded by young dragons in the water. They cheered loudly as a small purple tinted cub climbed up onto the pale sorcerer’s shoulders and spread its wings in triumph. Arthur caught himself smiling at the sight of the childish behavior, and perhaps a little at the sight of the wide genuine smile Emrys wore as he let himself fall backwards into the water dislodging the cub. That was of course, before the realization hit him that the dragons were not afraid of Emrys and therefore not afraid of humans.

 

Arthur could feel his smile slowly fading as he thought about the game the cubs had played with him. Scurrying forward until he could almost touch them before hastily retreating back to their friends but still seeming proud as if they’d proven something. It reminded Arthur of the times he and Morgana had snuck out of the citadel as children. They would go to the edge of the dark forest in the night, swearing that they could hear wolves or bears or dragons. They dared each other to step into the forest, through the first layer of sparse trees that lead into the thicket, where the wild animals roamed. Of course back then they didn’t realize that there wasn’t much in the woods surrounding them besides chipmunks and the occasional rabbit. The dark forest had seemed to their young imaginations to be full of all sorts of fearsome creatures. Morgana and he would take turns slipping through the trees and standing still counting as high as they dared before the fear got the better of them and they scurried back out to the safety of the torchlight.

 

It dawned on Arthur that the young dragon cubs thought of him as he had once the dark forest. He wasn’t sure whether he should be proud or ashamed.

 

“There are times in ones life, young Pendragon, where our paths diverge from where we once thought they laid” Arthur turned at the sudden intrusion, shocked to see a large gold dragon looking down at him. His heart beat quickly, fluttering behind his ribcage. The dragon stood two stories high at least, its glistening white teeth stretched past thin lips and hard scales large and shining in the mid-day sun. However, what was most worrying was that Arthur was entirely certain that if this dragon wanted to kill him where he sat there would be no way to stop him. “Calm yourself young prince, Emrys has given an order or protection, no dragon will harm you.”

 

“And he can just tell you how it is, can he?” Arthur squeaked.

 

“He is a Dragonlord; that is generally how it works.” Arthur tried not to jump as the ground beneath him shuddered with the weight of the dragon settling next to him.

 

“I thought Dragonlord was just a term for someone who worked with dragons?” Arthur continued, taking deep even breaths to remain calm.

 

“No, no” the dragon shook his head, and Arthur realized somewhere in the back of his mind that this was the first time he’d spoken to a dragon since the Purge. “Anyone may commune with the dragons if they so wish, but Dragonlords are exceedingly rare.” The dragon crossed its front paws over one another laying his large head down on top of them.

 

“How do you become one then?”

 

“It is a gift handed down from father to son.” The dragon’s rough voice intoned, “Only after the father’s passing does a son inherit his powers.”

 

Arthur swallowed, he had assumed that Emrys had no parents since he lived with a brood of dragons, Arthur refused to acknowledge them as a family, but he hadn’t thought about what that meant. “And how long has Emrys been a Dragonlord?”

 

“Since he was four annuals I believe” The dragon said as if it was no importance, but Arthur stilled.

 

Four, he thought, to be just four years old and loose a parent, probably both unless the boy had lost his mother even earlier. To be alone at so young an age, Arthur could not imagine the fear of knowing you were alone and being a sorcerer as Emrys was, having no where safe to go. Arthur looked to cove once again, watching as Emrys chased a young cub around in the water. How could the fool have taken care of himself? How did he know to find the dragons with a skill he’d just inherited? Emrys laughed a high pitched giggle of someone who felt absolutely no reason to guard himself. Arthur could only wonder what that freedom felt like, to let people see you for what you really were and have no fear.

 

“He has always been that way”

 

“Pardon?” Arthur asked, looking away from Emrys and to the dragon once more.

 

“Emrys” The dragon motioned to the boy who was just exiting the water, “he has always been open, unafraid.”

 

“You…You look familiar” Arthur said as he took in the stunning cleverness evident in the beast’s eyes.

 

“Ah well remembered young prince,” The dragon’s mouth shifted into something like a smile. “I am Kilgharrah, eldest of the dragons.”

 

“You’re The Great Dragon?” Arthur breathed reverently.

 

“The very same,” the dragon lifted his head seemingly proud to be recognized “And you are Arthur Pendragon the Once and Future King.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur shook his head, “the what?”

 

“Kilgharrah!” Arthur turned to see a very unhappy looking Emrys marching towards them.

 

“Oh gods, what is it now Emrys?” Arthur stood, hands clasping his hips. “Am I not allowed to speak with anyone, should I stay locked away in your cave perhaps?”

 

“Shut it,” Emrys snapped, turning his attention to the great dragon. Arthur’s attention was likewise caught by the sight of water streaming from Emrys’ hair, down over his rounded shoulders and onto his thin hips, tracing a line to the top of his sodden leggings.

 

“Destiny cannot be avoided little one” Arthur paused, surprised at the affection held in the dragon’s tone.

 

“It is none of his business” Emrys sighed.

 

“On the contrary, you are two sides of the same coin. What destiny touches you also touches…”

 

“Kilgharrah, blódseten!” 

 

The Great Dragon chuckled, “You know better than to command me, little one.”

 

“Yes, I suppose stop is too broad of a term. You do have a way of twisting commands around.”

 

“The benefits of age” Kilgharrah smiled.

 

“Then I ask you,” Emrys continued, “please, leave it alone. You know as well as I do that this prophecy cannot be true.”

 

“Excuse me” Arthur interrupted, “but would either of you like to stop having a conversation as if I am not actually here?”

 

“No, I don’t really fancy it” Emrys responded before turning back to the dragon.

 

“Very well, Emrys. For now I will end this conversation,” the dragon stood rotating his shoulder blades, “but you know as well as I warlock, that destiny cannot be run from. If it could, Arthur would not be here.”

 

“You are infuriating”

 

“Only to those who do not want to listen” the dragon bowed once before turning and walking back towards the water.

 

“Would you like to tell me what that was all about?”

 

“Not even remotely” Emrys answered and turned walking back towards the lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Language-
> 
> “Blódseten feoht Daisy!” - Stop fighting Daisy!
> 
> “Last ealdorcearu sé ambihthús” - Go look after the eggs
> 
> “Kilgharrah, blódseten!” - Kilgharrah, stop!


	5. Chapter 5

 

The revelation of who Merlin really was, the one time best friend of the blonde prat currently digging through his belongings, was something he had really hoped to avoid all together.

 

“Put. That. _Down_.” Merlin growled as he stepped fully into his cave.

 

Night had just fallen over the hills to the west, and the cave shone softly with the light of several candles the prince had strewn around the dusty floor. Apparently he’d never heard of using resources sparingly. That however was not the reason Merlin was upset.

 

Apparently while searching his home for even more candles to burn Arthur had come across his dragon. The small wooden figure that Merlin’s father had carved for him as a child, it was sacred to him and had been placed on a small outcropping of rock where it would not be disturbed or damaged further by the erosion of time. Now Arthur was holding it, his fingers tight and fisted nearly cracking the wood of the dragon’s delicate wings.

 

“Where did you get this?” Arthur turned to look at him.

 

“It is mine, put it down”

 

“Liar! Where did you get this? Where did you find it?!” Arthur raged holding up the carving.

 

“What are you talking about? It’s mine! Now give it back to me.”

 

Arthur stepped back as Merlin held out his hand for the small toy and a look came over his face as if something had just clicked into place. Merlin was not naïve enough to believe it was something other than his true identity.

 

“No…” Arthur began, looking at the object in his hand, turning it over to see the carving of initials that made it apparent that Emrys was indeed Merlin. “I know this toy. I carved these letters…” He looked up again at Merlin and the sorcerer could feel the desire to fight leaving him, Arthur looked so lost and unsure.

 

“Arthur, please.” Merlin held out his hand for the toy and Arthur slowly handed it over, his rough finger tips grazing briefly over Merlin’s palm.

 

“They…” The Prince seemed to pause unsure of what he was going to say. Merlin took the opportunity to turn away, placing his dragon back on to its makeshift shelf beside his other belongings. “They said you’d died.” Arthur finished.

 

Merlin sighed running a hand over the contours of his weary face, “I almost did, would have if it had been up to Aredian.”

 

“But how…how are you here?”

 

Merlin did not answer, couldn’t answer. He often thought of the journey that had lead from Camelot to his parents’ death but only as a tool to solidify his conviction to stay out of human matters. To further convince himself he was taking the right path by staying in the woods with the last of his kind. He did not allow himself to look back at what happened beyond the fact that King Uther had forced them from their home and Aredian had murdered his parents. To look any further was too painful.

 

“M-Merlin” Arthur breathed, laying a hand tentatively on his shoulder and forcing him to turn and look at the young prince. “It is you, isn’t it?” Arthur searched his face, “I feel as if I’m going mad, I knew I recognized you, but I couldn’t place it. You were just a boy when you left, but those eyes…I’ve never forgotten the blue of your eyes.”

 

Merlin held his breath as Arthur reached a hand up cupping his cheek, objectively to get a better look at Merlin’s face, but he could not help but feel a rush of something warm and natural settle over him at the press of Arthur’s hand.

 

“I am not him Arthur.” Merlin sighed reaching up to cover Arthur’s hand with his own, “How could I be?”

 

“ _Mer_ lin” Arthur smirked, letting his hand fall. “I think I know my own best friend when I see him.”

 

“That’s not the tune you were singing earlier.” Merlin couldn’t help the answering smile. “I thought I was...what was it again? Oh yes, a wild refugee who lives in the woods with beasts...”

 

Arthur blushed, looking away as if ashamed. It was a look Merlin had not yet learned from this new incarnation of Arthur, so unlike the boy he was but similar enough for Merlin to read his emotions.

 

“Its okay” Merlin continued, “I am.”

 

“Well yes” Arthur nodded, blatantly tracing over Merlin who despite the setting of the sun was still clad only in a pair of breeches and no shirt. Merlin blushed lightly, feeling heat blossoming in his chest and face, and hoped that in the dim light it may go unnoticed. Of course the soft smile on Arthur’s lips indicated it didn’t. “I-I should not have said those things.”

 

“Why?” Merlin tilted his head, “because you know I’m your old friend now? You said nothing that was untrue.” He shrugged. “I am wild. I spent most of my formative years with only dragons for company, I only know English now because of the druids. I speak without regard for station. I stomp hard on the ground and fight with my nails and teeth. I am dragon in everything but outward appearance.”

 

“No,” Arthur smiled, “you were always like that.”

 

Merlin tried to look annoyed but could not stop the upward tilt of his lips. It was Arthur, he may have the airs of a prince, but that smile, that bright eye crinkling smile was one he remembered so well, one of his only solid memories from the time before the loss of his parents. Merlin looked closer, allowing himself for the first time since Arthur had landed in his life once more to trace the other vestiges of the youth he’d known. Arthur’s hair was obviously the same, perhaps a bit bleached by the sun, but still soft looking and golden as his mother’s was. He held himself with the same confidence as he always had but now his stature, all gorgeously rounded muscles and chiseled jaw line, made that confidence into something more resembling an easy self-possession. In short, Arthur had grown from the bossy young boy Merlin remembered into a confident and undeniably beautiful man.

 

Arthur coughed, “Why do they call you Emrys?”

 

“Hmm?” Merlin tore his eyes away from the sweep of Arthur’s strong shoulders.

 

“Morgana,” Arthur raised an eyebrow and Merlin blushed cursing himself, “she called you Emrys, and the dragon did too.”

 

“Oh” Merlin shrugged, “it’s just something the druids call me, it’s caught on I suppose.” That was a subject he had no intention of going near.

 

“Does she know who you are?” Merlin paused, seeing something akin to anger in Arthur’s face. He wasn’t sure why he would be angry at her, but he didn’t see the need to keep anything from him any more.

 

“Yes, she has always known”

 

“Why wouldn’t she tell me?” Arthur’s voice rose, “Did she not think I had a right to know?”

 

“She did not tell you because I asked her not to.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Arthur, despite our history the fact remains that I am a Dragonlord, a sorcerer and you are the crown prince of Camelot.”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

Merlin sighed, “It means that I have a responsibility to my family to keep my head.”

 

There was a moment of silence but then slowly Arthur stepped forward, cupping Merlin’s face in his palm once more. “I am not my father.”

 

Merlin looked into the cool blue of Arthur’s eyes and saw the conviction there. He wanted so badly to believe it, to be able to stay there in the moment with Arthur close and searching. Nothing had ever seemed so important as Arthur’s hand covering his cheek, his thumb sweeping absently along his cheek bone.

 

Outside Merlin could hear the sound of a dragon walking along the sand and his heart sunk as he shook his head and took a step back.

 

“That may be so, but you came into our home with swords raised. You would have slaughtered us without a second thought if you’d had more men with you.” Merlin could see that Arthur wanted to argue the point, wanted to deny that he would have done so, but then his shoulders slumped and he nodded woefully before stepping back as well.

 

“I will not be my father” Arthur whispered just loud enough so that Merlin could hear in the cavernous space of the cave.

 

“I really hope that’s true.” Merlin smiled.

 

 

The largest cave in the den was set aside as a hatchery apparently. Arthur watched as Merlin laced his arms through the sleeves of one of his threadbare tunics as they entered. The morning was cool, a slight breeze filtering through the cave behind him.

 

“You almost look civilized”

 

“Shut it, would you like to stay chained up in my cave today?” Merlin smirked over his shoulder, “because that can be arranged.”

 

A shudder ran down Arthur’s spine at the thought of being laid out on Merlin’s bed with a wrist chained over his head and it took him a moment to realize that may not be an appropriate response. He felt his face flush and was immediately thankful that Merlin’s back was to him.

 

Over the past couple of days, since discovering that Emrys was in fact Merlin, a host of inappropriate thoughts seemed to bubble up from nowhere. Arthur at first thought that it was just growing affection for the friend that he’d missed since childhood. They no longer sniped at each other, well at least not as much, and they seemed to be heading towards some genuine sense of understanding. It was natural, Arthur thought, to develop a bond of sorts. However, he could not deny that the visceral responses his mind and body seemed to have towards the other man were completely inconvenient and did not remind him of any feeling he’d ever had towards a friend.

 

Arthur was not a prude, he had severed in Camelot’s army long before taking command of his own knights; he knew that sometimes men lay with other men. However, that was in the heat of battle, far from home and without women for company. Once home those things became taboo, never touched upon, they were not a part of polite society. Of course that did not actually keep Arthur’s mind from wandering when Merlin stopped to turn his face into the bright morning sun or emerged from the lake after a swim. Polite or not, Arthur felt himself awakening to a new host of wants and desires that he imaged were what he ought to have been feeling for the women he’d bedded in the past.

 

“Ruby” Merlin nodded in greeting to the large auburn dragon that had stopped by the cave on Arthur’s first night in the den. The dragon bowed gracefully to Merlin, only sparing Arthur a cursory glance.

 

“Hé cunnan ðu nú” she said and Merlin smiled slightly at Arthur before turning back to her. 

 

“Géa,hé cunnan”

 

“Hé gescéadnesse ðu áwierdnes” The dragon raised her head well over Merlin looking directly at Arthur. He was sure he could feel a wave of contempt directed towards him but Merlin sat his hand against her rough hide, calling her attention back quickly.

 

“Dæl, Ruby” Merlin sighed, “inca créda”  The dragon shook her head and huffed a deep breath hot air blowing from her large nostrils.

 

“You may not remember much youngling, but I recall well the smoke that lingered over the city of Camelot.”  Arthur was shocked to hear the beast speak so that he could understand. Her voice was smooth but cold as she looked to Arthur. All at once a weight settled solidly in his gut. He could not blame her for being angry, not now that he’d seen the innocence of the young cubs playing on the beach and heard the trickle of their laughter as Merlin swam with them in the water.

 

He can remember well the day the hatchery went up in smoke. It was only weeks after the death of his mother and the same day he lost Merlin.

 

_Arthur had been woken early by his nursemaid, a churlish woman who brooked no nonsense, and escorted quickly to his wardrobe to dress. She had been harried, constantly looking over her shoulder to the door as she helped him on with his tunic and leggings but when young Arthur had asked her what was wrong she would not answer, only saying that the king demanded that they hurry._

_Once dressed, his nursemaid had grabbed his hand, leading him out into the corridor where armed knights were waiting. Arthur knew even then the difference between regular palace guards and his father’s trusted men. He followed them down the hall, scuffling his feet on the cool stone just hoping that whatever he’d done his father would be lenient. He couldn’t remember getting up to anything too bad in the past few days but the king very well could have found evidence from one of his past exploits._

_“No!” a sharp cry rang out and Arthur knew that voice, would know it anywhere. He was off running back the way they had come before any of the knights even realized he was moving._

_“Prince Arthur!” a knight yelled, “Come back at once!”_

_Arthur paid them no mind as he ran past his own rooms and then his fathers and Morgana’s, turning wildly around the corner which lead to the Dragonlord’s rooms. He could see Merlin now, standing right outside the door, his mother bent down on one knee to look him in the eye. His cheeks were flushed pink and wet._

_“Merlin!” Arthur hollered._

_The young boy looked up, immediately wrenching himself from his mother’s side to throw himself into Arthur’s arms._

_“Don’t make me go, pwease Arfur.” Merlin lisped into the crook of Arthur’s neck._

_“What?” Arthur had looked down at his friend, “Don’t be an idiot Merlin, you are not to go anywhere without me.”_

_“Prince Arthur” Hunith interrupted, “I am sorry but we must go, and it looks as though your fathers men are looking for you.”_

_Arthur turned to look back down the hall were his father’s knights were indeed headed towards them. Merlin’s small hands clutched tighter around his waist and Arthur decided the men could wait, Merlin needed him._

_“Where are you going?” Arthur asked_

_“Away your highness” Hunith answered, sad smile gracing her lips._

_“But you’ll be back right?” Arthur started as Merlin once again burst into tears. “Right?”_

_“What’s going on here?” One of the knights called as he came to a stop beside them._

_“Nothing, I assure you” Hunith answered, voice wavering in what Arthur would later realize was nervousness. “We are just making to leave.”_

_“As well you should” the knight nodded, “Aredian did not specify how much time you would be given.”_

_Arthur turned his attention back to Merlin, not understanding what the grown-ups were talking about, only knowing that his best friend was upset. It all had to be some mistake though, Merlin could not go away. Who would Arthur play with? Who would heal his scraped knees when he fell in the courtyard playing knights? No, Merlin would be staying. He’d make sure of that. His father would never let him be taken away from him._

_“Don’t cry” He whispered, running his hands over the younger boy’s back. “It will be alright, I am going to see the king right now. He will know what to do.”_

_Merlin looked up at him, rubbing his eyes with a pudgy fist, “Pwomise?” he hiccupped._

_Arthur had nodded, “Here” Arthur held out a carved wooden dragon, one of the two Balinor had carved for the boys. “You take mine and I’ll take yours” Arthur decided, trading his dragon for Merlin’s when the younger boy took it from his pocket. “Mine has my initials carved in it, so we will have to meet back here to trade back later, okay?”_

_“Okay” Merlin sniffled, tracing his finger over the carved AP on the dragon’s stomach._

_“Prince Arthur, we must go” One of the knights sighed._

_Arthur nodded, “I will see you later Merlin, you will see, my father will make it all better.” Merlin nodded again and Arthurt let the knights take him away._

_That was the first time his father disappointed him, the first time he saw him as something other than infallible._

 

Arthur came back to himself as Ruby spoke again though Arthur did not catch what was said. He could not deny her anger, nor hold it against her. Arthur may have lost a friend but Arthur had seen the burning shell of the hatchery later that same day.  For her to have suffered the loss of so many of her kind could only be expected to breed hate and contempt.

 

“I remember better than you think” Merlin assured her, and not for the first time since learning the truth Arthur can only wonder how Merlin can stand to look at him.

 

Ruby does not respond only bows respectfully before exiting the cave and taking off into the air with a great gust of wind.

 

“I am sorry” Merlin said, turning back to Arthur.

 

“Do not be.” Arthur shrugged, “nothing less than I deserved.”

 

Merlin looked puzzled, “You didn’t start The Purge.”

 

“No but I never questioned it, not when it mattered.”

 

“You are being dramatic” Merlin smirked, “You were five Arthur, I hardly think you were in a position to stop what happened and I’m sure _The King_ raised you not to question his position as you grew.”

 

That much was true Arthur supposed, but it still ate at him. His father had led the fight against magic and he had never questioned it, not until now.

 

“What’s done cannot be undone; there is no need to take on guilt that is not yours to bear.” Merlin shrugged as if he truly considered the issue closed and walked further into the cave.

 

Arthur followed him still feeling uneasy but relieved that at least Merlin did not blame him for what happened. He still worried about the dragons. For one, they were huge beasts and if one decided that the opportunity to seek revenge was too tempting while Merlin’s back was turned there would be nothing much he could do about it. Secondly and perhaps most affecting, Arthur was starting not to see them so much as animals but as…he was not sure…mystic creatures? They were obviously intelligent, Kilgharrah in particular seemed wise and obviously gifted with prophecy, though Merlin still had no desire for the ancient dragon to share what that might entail. It seemed more and more likely that his father had just taken the revenge he should have reserved for Nimueh out on the entire magical populace.

 

Arthur stopped abruptly, bumping his chest into Merlin’s back.

 

“A little warning might be nice, _Mer_ lin” Arthur blushed, taking a step back from his friend.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a warrior, aware of your surroundings and all that?” Merlin smiled.

 

“I’ll have you know that I could take you apart with one blow, I have no need for stealth.”

 

“Whatever you say, your highness” Merlin bowed, Arthur could only wonder at how someone could make a simple gesture look so derisive.

 

A crackling to the side called Arthur’s attention away from the disrespectful warlock and Arthur’s eyebrows rose as he took in the small nest before him.  Three large blue eggs sat swaddled in a myriad of leaves and bent wood boughs. They were smaller than Arthur remembered, though he assumes that is because he was quite young the last time he’d seen a dragon egg. They stood perhaps the height of the ground to his knees, round and smooth, shining as if they’d been polished.

 

The area itself was quite warm, a large fire blazing to the left of the nest, smoke escaping through a small crack in the ceiling of the cave. The crackling of the wood echoed through the dim space, though the logs themselves never seemed to crumble or give way. Magic, Arthur assumed, a shiver running through him. He knew of course that Merlin was a sorcerer; he’d know that before he’d lost him as a child. However seeing the evidence, which he hadn’t since Merlin had disposed of the chain that bound Arthur, would take some getting used to.

 

Merlin looked back at him, seeming to guess what it was Arthur had been thinking.

 

“It is not evil you know.”

 

“Yes, I know” Arthur agreed. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Language- 
> 
> “Hé cunnan ðu nú” - He knows you now 
> 
> “Géa,hé cunnan” - Yes, he knows
> 
> “Hé gescéadnesse ðu áwierdnes” - He will hurt you
> 
> “Dæl, Ruby” Merlin sighed, “inca créda” - No Ruby, have faith


	6. Chapter 6

 

Cador limped heavily from the edge of the woods. It had taken him several days of walking and bartering rides with passing journeymen to reach the city of Camelot. He’d been unable to move after the initial confrontation with the dragon and the loss of his prince. He had crawled slowly away from the den, not wanting to risk the dragons realizing that he had survived. He’d stayed low and silent as possible, luckily after only a couple of miles he’d come across an elderly woman picking berries in the woods. She’d helped him, taken him to the healer in Claipol. It had been days after that before he’d managed to convince the healer he was well enough to travel.

 

He was home now though, in Camelot, but in all honesty he couldn’t find it in him to be relieved. He was honor bound to report to the king right away, to tell him of the death of his son. His highness would be devastated, there was no doubt of that, what remained to be seen was whether he would take that grief out on Cador. This evening he would either be detailing the whereabouts of the dragon’s den or locked up in the dungeons for having escaped where Arthur had fallen.

 

It was hard on Cador as well. Arthur had been his friend for many years, ever since Cador had come to the kingdom to join the famous knights. They had trained together and after a time he even managed to get into some mischief with the reclusive prince. The young royal had never had many friends, seeming to keep himself at arms length. Cador had assumed that it was because the prince knew that he would one day have to lead them, he would need to build respect not close bonds of friendship. He’d heard other stories though, as all the knights had, of Prince Arthur’s childhood friend who had been killed during The Purge and the disappearance of his sister Lady Morgana. He supposed either reason was valid for Arthur to keep his distance. But for some reason he’d let Cador in, not that he could say he truly knew the prince, but he knew more than any other. He’d been his friend and he had left him there.

 

Seeing Arthur fall, that was something he’d never prepared himself for. Though he was in King Uther’s command, his loyalty has always laid with Arthur. The prince was a man of action as Uther was a man of words, but action was what got things done. It was what protected the people from boarder attacks and what found sorcerers who cursed the land with famine. Arthur was a soldier, more than that he’d been a protector. He’d loved his people to a fault, risking his life several times over for them. Yes, Cador’s loyalty had fallen to the prince long ago, now he feared for who would be positioned for the throne in his place.

 

Cador had replayed the moment Arthur had fallen several times in the past days, the large tail of a stalwart dragon knocking him to the ground and over the edge of the tall hill, into the den of beasts. He’d dreamt that he’d been there, closer to the prince, able to pull him back or die in his place, though he knew deep in his heart that Arthur would never wish it of him. He would have though, Cador knew his own worth, he was a skilled fighter, a mediocre strategist and a faithful friend but Arthur had been worth more than him. He would have led Camelot to further prosperity, he had no doubt.

 

The injured knight raised his head as he entered the courtyard of the palace. He heard a yell ring out, and found Sir Leon at his side a moment later. He was grateful when the knight immediately took one arm around his shoulder lifting some of the weight from his tired leg and called for Gaius.

 

“Are you alone?” Is all Leon asked, and Cador could do nothing more but nod.

 

 

Merlin meets with the council every fourth day at dusk. Ostensively the purpose of the meeting is for the elders, namely Ruby, Brune, Cawthorne, and Kilgharrah, along with Merlin in his role as Dragonlord to discuss any issues facing the den. They are to consider solutions and decide on plans of action to be taken to the rest of their family. However, more often than not the gatherings turn into a night of Merlin leaning back into Ruby’s side as Cawthorne recites ancient stories that have been handed down through the generations. At some point Kilgharrah will start harping on about destiny and Merlin’s role in it while Ruby encourages him to ignore the old fool and stay with his family. That night had been no exception.

 

Now though, as he walks back towards his cave he cannot help thinking of Arthur, the mad prince who had suddenly stumbled back into his life. Merlin had never felt so conflicted before. Usually he was more than happy to bathe in the protective spirit of Ruby and ignore the prodding of “The Great Dragon”. He has lost enough, sacrificed enough. But now that Arthur was there, now that he could feel that connection, that by all rights should have faded away after years of separation, take hold in his heart again....well that made things more complicated. When he was with Arthur he truly did feel like he could accomplish things. Maybe not build up a Utopian kingdom like Kilgharrah suggested, but at least strive to change people's minds about magic and the people who used it. Of course that could just be the lust talking. 

 

Merlin had tried to ignore it, of course he had. Inappropriate feelings for a childhood friend who it just so happens is also the prince of a kingdom who put people like him to death on site was just asking for trouble. It was Arthur's fault, he was sure of it. Merlin would never willingly fall for such a berk. It was his fault, with his ridiculous hair that gleamed in the sunlight and the way his eyes creased in the corners when he smiled, not to mention that ridiculous laugh. Yes, it was not Merlin’s fault that his heart seemed to beat faster every time their arms brushed. There was no defense he’d ever learned to counteract Arthur.

 

Of course it didn't help that as they'd spent more time together it became apparent that Arthur was nothing like his father, despite Uther's best efforts he was sure. Arthur was loyal to his kingdom and his father to a fault, but he was also open. He’d admitted that he believed magic and therefore Merlin himself was not evil, something Uther would never have done. He cared for his men, the ones he lost and the ones he still missed in Camelot having mentioned more than once his training of the knights. He seemed as proud of their accomplishments under his tutelage as he was of his own. Arthur, it turned out had grown up to be a good man.

 

 “Slow down!” Merlin’s head shot up as Arthur’s voice echoed out over the lake. “No!”

 

Merlin sped up running through the copse of trees and into view of the lake. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. In the dim light of the night Merlin could just make out Arthur splashing chest high in the lake, his golden hair reflecting off the smooth mirrored surface of the black lake. A young dragon cub, possibly Aithusa but it was hard to see from the distance, was climbing onto Arthur’s shoulders “Owe watch the claws you beast!” the prince laughed as the cub tried to dunk the blonde prince down into the water’s depths.

 

“What are you…” Arthur disappeared below the water much to the glee of the chortling cub. He appeared once again with a great spray of water from his mouth, “That is it!” Arthur smiled jumping forward and wrapping his arms around the amused dragon. Merlin couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he watched Aithusa’s pale wings wrapping around Arthur’s head and the prince attempting to pry the spry youngling off.

 

“Merlin!” Arthur cried, “I can hear your horrific snorting from there…why you little…set an example for your hatchling and…oh that is it, I am telling Ruby young man!” the cub, definitely Aithusa stilled, “Oh that got your attention didn’t it?”Merlin could hear the prince’s smirk from the shore. “Now go on before I have to bring your den mother into this.” Aithusa made an unimpressed sound but turned and started swimming towards the shore, Arthur trailing behind him trying not to look like he was concerned the small cub might not make it to shore on his own.

 

“Look at the two of you” Merlin set his hands on his hips, “I leave for two seconds and its anarchy.”

 

“Well not all of us can live up to the standards of the _last dragonlord_.” Arthur smirked before violently whipping his head around and pelting Merlin with water.

 

“Hey! It’s cold you prat!”

 

“Oh so you do feel the cold?” the blonde motioned to Merlin’s bare chest, “ I was beginning to wonder they way you run around” Aithusa giggled from his place at Arthur’s side.

 

“My body runs hotter than most” Merlin answered, “One of the benefits of being dragon-kin”

 

“Yes” Aithusa nodded eagerly, “Kilgharrah says that Emrys has so much magic that his body has to burn it off another way, so he stays warm even in the winter!”

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” Merlin smirked, “go on, go before Ruby does have to come and get you. We both know how that ends.”

 

“Alright…”Aithusa pouted, turning in the direction of his den, “will you play with me tomorrow Arthur?”

 

“Sure” Arthur shrugged but Merlin could tell he was delighted to finally be approached by a member of the den other than Merlin.

 

Merlin watched Aithusa until he reached the mouth of the cave he shared with Ruby and his other litter mates. The dragon was young and curious, truth be told Merlin has been surprised the cub had been able to hold out this long before seeking Arthur out. No doubt he’d peaked the youngling’s interest to the moment he arrived.

 

“Do you really have so much magic?” Arthur asked, as they headed back towards Merlin’s home.

 

“Mmm” Merlin hummed in assent, he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Not right then, not as Arthur was just getting comfortable with magic. He didn’t need to know about prophecies and power, not yet, maybe not ever.

 

Arthur set to work ridding himself of the wet leggings he’d worn swimming and sliding back into his usual breaches and tunic. Merlin for his part tried to ignore the blonde as he stripped and set about scrounging up some dinner. He’d not been hunting that day so there was no meat, but he did have some cheese and a bit of bread he’d conjured from a market a few leagues away. So he lit some candles to illuminate the dark room and set out the meager fare.

 

It was nothing like Arthur would have at the castle of course and for a moment Merlin was embarrassed at the humble offering of a meal. Which even he could understand was unnecessary as Arthur had been sharing meals with him for weeks. But still if Arthur was home he’d be feasting on game and vegetables and probably fresh baked pies and any other sweet thing the prince’s heart desired. And he was deserve it because he would have spent the day training the knights and seeing to other duties he no doubt had. There was no doubt that Arthur’s presence was being missed at court at this very moment.

 

Sometimes he wished he could let Arthur go home, back to the people who needed and loved him. No doubt if he was given the opportunity he would go. Who would willingly stay a prisoner afterall? But he couldn’t not until the hatchlings were born, not until it was safe to move.

 

\--

 

“I would never tell, you know” Arthur said as he sat beside Merlin breaking off bits of stale bread.

 

“Tell what?” Merlin asked sliding a bit of cheese between his plump lips.

 

“Where you are…where your family is.”

 

Merlin smiled slightly but sighed, “You may not have a choice.”

 

“You can’t possibly think that my father would torture me for the information.” Arthur scoffed.

 

“No, but the king is not above using other methods if you said you could not remember”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“It means,” Merlin looked to him, “that there are still those in Camelot who remember the old ways. If Uther heard tale of a den of dragons living not far from his boarder he would do anything necessary to root them out.”

 

“You think he would stoop to use magic?” Arthur could not believe that of his father.

 

“I didn’t say **_stoop_** ” Merlin’s eyes flashed. “Uther is blinded by prejudice and he blames magic users for your mother’s death, perhaps dragons most of all because they did not see it coming. If there was a way to find us he would use it.”

 

Arthur saw the logic of Merlin’s opinion of course, but for all of his father’s sins, and Arthur was beginning to understand that there were indeed many, he could not bear to think him a hypocrite.

 

Merlin’s eyes softened as Arthur looked at him, their deep blue shining clearly in the dim light of the cave. “I am sorry, Arthur.” He was not sure whether the sorcerer was apologizing for his words or for Arthur’s disillusionment, though he doubted Merlin regretted what he’d said. Arthur had learned enough of him over the past weeks to realize that he always spoke plain and to the point. He did not hide his feelings or intentions and surprisingly Arthur had come to cherish that.

 

“We have not moved our den in too long anyway” Merlin continued, “the fact that you heard rumors about us at all means we should go.”

 

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat, _go_ he thought **_we_** _should go_.

 

“You can’t.” Arthur commanded, and Merlin was not the only one surprised at his outburst.

 

“I can’t what?”

 

Arthur breathed deeply, eyes sliding shut. He needed to calm down; he wasn’t sure why the thought of Merlin leaving suddenly had him in a panic. He had to have known that Merlin would leave. He called the dragons his family, it made sense that he would leave with them….but still…he couldn’t…he shouldn’t leave. If he left then Arthur would never see him again, would _loose_ Merlin…

 

“Arthur?” a hand slid up his arm, coming to rest on his shoulder, “look at me.”

 

Arthur opened his eyes, Merlin was close, too close, his bent knees touching Arthur’s legs where they were crossed in front of him. He seemed confused at first, looking him over as if searching for the source of whatever was wrong and Arthur sighed heavily, allowing himself to gaze into the blue pools of Merlin’s eyes.

 

How could he tell him that what was wrong was the way Merlin made him feel? It was as if from the moment he’d seen Merlin at the bottom of that hill he’d known where he belonged. He’d spent so much time feeling ill at ease and not daring to let anyone close enough to hurt him with their absence that feeling of home, of something meant for him, had been unfamiliar. He’d only felt it at first as a brief tugging of his attention, a feeling as if a puzzle had been set down in front of him and he was meant to put it together with out knowing what picture the pieces were suppose to form. Then as he’d watched the sorcerer his mind had been drawn to the planes and valleys of Emrys’ bare skin. It wasn’t until he’d found out Merlin’s identity though that the flood gates had opened. It was like both his mind and body were attuned to Merlin. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the other man and the feelings, the inappropriate longing feelings…

 

“I can’t loose you.”  Arthur shrugged, as if what he’d just admitted wasn’t treason.

 

“Arthur” Merlin’s hand moved up slipping through Arthur’s hair and sliding down to cup his cheek, forcing Arthur to meet his eyes. “I wish things were…” Merlin swallowed looking away but as he tried to slide his hand from his cheek Arthur reached up holding it in place.

 

“I know” Arthur whispered, because he did and now that he looked into Merlin’s eyes he could see his own fears reflected back to him.

 

It was childish he supposed, stupid and bound to end badly but as Arthur brought his lips down upon the other man’s he could not bring himself to care. There was nothing he ever wanted more and nothing that had ever felt as natural as Merlin surged forward sliding his hands back into Arthur’s hair and pressing his lips firmly to his own.

 

It was everything he always knew he should feel, his skin trembling as he let his hands roam smoothly over the scratchy fabric of Merlin’s tunic, breath hitching as Merlin slipped his tongue cautiously against Arthur’s lower lip. He opened his mouth to the other man, hands clenching the material of Merlin’s shirt as their tongues touched for the first time, sliding wetly as their breaths mingled between them.

 

The heat radiating from Merlin was astonishing, even covered with just a thin tunic in the cool night his chest felt like a furnace against’ Arthur’s own. It was comforting and inviting, encouraging Arthur to hold on tighter as he ran the tips of his fingers over the taught planes of Merlin’s stomach.

 

They broke apart when a horrible roar echoed through the night, causing them both to jump to their feet. The roar was followed closely by fire which exploded in the dark valley. The light was echoed by shocked screams from men whose shadows were momentarily illuminated.

 

“Stay here” Merlin instructed, turning to walk out into the night.

 

“Like hell!” The fire extinguished as a dragon, Arthur couldn’t tell which, inhaled. Arthur could hear the men’s armor clanking as they made their way into the den, though he could not see them in the dark. Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm turning him back to face him. “You don’t know who those men are or what they’re armed with. You can’t go out there unprepared.”

 

“They are my family, I will fight with them.” Merlin wrenched his arm away and fled leaving Arthur no choice but to follow. He would not loose him now.

 

A second bright burst of flame illuminated the area and Arthur at once recognized the golden sigil embedded into the Camelot red cloaks the attacking men wore. More screams echoed through the den as the smell of burning flesh invaded the area. This would end badly; there was no doubt about that. Unless…unless Arthur stopped this before it truly began. Right now the dragons in the surrounding caves were just beginning to rise, the men just getting into battle formations. If Arthur could stop this, could spare both sides more losses, surely that was what he had to do.

 

Ahead of them Arthur could see Ruby struggling to fend off a group of knights. She stood incensed and frightening in front of the entrance to the hatchery. She breathed out again heaving stunning flames into the dark sky setting more men and the surrounding brush alight.

 

“Contain the beast!” One of the men yelled as another lifted a heavy spear.

 

“NO!” Beside him Merlin jumped forward though the air, as if he himself was a beast, landing squarely on the chest of the spear bearing knight. With a bright flash of eyes his nails seemed to elongate into talons, his teeth into dragon-like fangs. He lashed out, bringing his hands down to bare on the soldier. The claws ripped through the heavy chainmail like butter, a smooth and fluid motion leaving red blood in their path.

 

“Merlin!” Arthur screamed, but his friend didn’t seem to hear him, instead lunging out again to strike at the man who had taken aim at Ruby.

 

A rumbling began and around him he could see the other dragons coming to the mouths of their caves and to his left Arthur saw a great number of men with enough weapons to if not take out the nest then certainly put a dent in their already dwindling numbers.

 

He did not think before he ran to Ruby, he did not stop to question if in the heat of battle his men might mistake him for a sorcerer like Merlin. His only thoughts were for protecting Merlin’s family and his men. He ran until he stood in front of the mighty dragon, the light from the burning vegetation illuminating him before his men.

 

“Stop this!” The soldiers froze and a great surprised murmur flowed through their ranks as Arthur held his arms to his sides instinctually to guard the dragon at his back.

 

“P-Prince Arthur?” Leon, the head of his knights stepped forward; he looked bewildered but knelt quickly followed by the other men. “I don’t understand, Cador said you’d been killed.”

 

“Cador survived?” Arthur is surprised, but thankful.

 

Arthur turned slightly, noticing movement to his left. Merlin’s eyes are glowing golden once again and slowly his features melt back into those of the man he’s come to care deeply for, all traces of fangs and talons gone. Though there was still blood dripping from his hands and for a moment Arthur found himself struck by the truly animalistic quality of Merlin’s movements as he walked towards him.

 

_“I am dragon in everything but outward appearance.”_ Arthur understood what Merlin had meant now.

 

Leon jumped to his feet, raising a sword to Merlin’s neck before he could come closer. Merlin stopped, though he did not seem to be worried by the display. No doubt a sword was not a big threat to a sorcerer.

 

“Brune buried only two bodies, where there more with you?” Merlin asked.

 

“Three’ Arthur nodded, and Leon looked between them in confusion.

 

“Sire, what do you want us to do with this…beast” he sneered.

 

“Put your sword aside, Sir Leon.” Arthur commanded. “He is not to be harmed.”

 

“What do you mean? He slew Tristan!”

 

Arthur’s eyes were drawn to the man Merlin had attacked, it was gruesome if he was to honest, slashes as if the man had been attacked by a large animal and looking back to Merlin, hard glinted eyes and blood dripping from his hands, it was unnerving to believe that the man he’d kissed earlier and this sorcerer were one in the same. What was more frightening still was the attraction he yet felt even after the guttural display of rage Merlin had displayed.

 

“You come into our home swords raised and you would judge him for protecting me?” Ruby asked, the men could do nothing but stare as Ruby leaned her long neck down further to peer at them. “I have raised Emrys since he was a child; he is as a hatchling to me. If you think to hurt him you will have much to contend with.”

 

Leon lowered his sword, looking again to Arthur for guidance. Arthur straightened his back, shoulders wide as the mantel of Prince once again settled over him after so many days of simply existing with Merlin. He had been allowed to simply be a man here, no undue respect or responsibility foisted upon him due to his title. It was only now that Leon and his men looked to him for direction that he realized what a gift that had been.

 

“There is no winning in this scenario” Arthur intoned as the men began to notice the other dragons stepping out from their caves.

 

“You know the king will never let this stand, my lord” Leon spoke as he stepped closer to Arthur. “He will demand blood.”

 

“I’d like to see you try” Merlin growled stepping forward, but stopping when Arthur held his arm out in front of him.

 

“I will talk to him; I will explain that they are not a threat.”

 

“Not a threat?” a young knight, stepped forward “Geraint and Owaine are dead, Tristan was killed by that thing!” he pointed to Merlin.

 

“Step back Galahad” Leon warned, “that is no way to speak to your prince.”

 

“I mean no disrespect, my lord” Galahad bowed, “but you cannot expect us, let alone the king, to believe that these beasts are not a threat.”

 

“Your majesty,” Leon sighed, “the king has never been one to tolerate magic, not since the purge. If we come back with nothing when he sent us to purge the den he could very well sentence every man to a flogging if not worse.”

 

“You will come back with me, is that not enough?” Arthur fumed. Beside him Merlin looked to the caves, seeming to size up the dragon’s readiness if they should need to fight.

 

“Your- Arthur” Leon stepped closer, nodding subtly to Merlin who was still tensed at his side. “Bringing you home to Camelot will indeed be cause for much joy, but do you really expect your father to believe that we set upon a den of dragons and rescued you with only one casualty?”

 

“I will go.” Arthur stilled, his heart stuttering in his chest. “I will go back with you” Merlin reiterated. “You can tell _Uther_ that I held you off while the brood escaped.”

 

“No” Arthur turned to him, “No, I will not let you.”

 

“Do you have another solution Arthur?” Merlin turned towards him, “It spares your men from a flogging and my family from a battle, if I come with you they will have time to escape.”

 

“He will put you to death!” Arthur clenched his fists at his side.

 

“I know” Merlin soothed.

 

“Take him” Leon commanded and slowly two men started to approach Merlin, metal cuffs in hand.”

 

“No!” Arthur rushed between them and Merlin, “remember your place Leon, I am the prince your orders to not supersede mine!”

 

“Not unless I fear that your judgment has been impaired by sorcery.”

 

“You know it hasn’t” Arthur pushed one of the men back, “Don’t you touch him!”

 

“What is easier to believe, my lord, that the crown prince of Camelot has suddenly bonded with a sorcerer and a pack of dragons or that you have been bewitched?”

 

The men began to move towards Merlin again and Arthur lashed out, “No!” he pushed them, wishing once again that he still had a sword as his side. He swung his fist, lashing out at the knights, hitting one in the jaw with a right cross. The knight fell like a heap of bricks, the other held his ground. “Stay back!” A hand came down heavy on his shoulder and Arthur turned pulling his fist back to strike, pushing it down just in time to see Merlin looking at him with a sad smile.

 

“Stop” Merlin whispered, “stop.” Merlin reached out with his other arm, bringing them around Arthur.

 

“They-they can’t have you” Arthur murmured letting himself be drawn into the embrace, burrowing his face into Merlin’s neck, not caring what his men thought at that moment

 

“I’m sorry, Arthur” Merlin’s fingers ran through his hair, seeming to ease Arthur’s mind.

 

“I will not let you…”

 

“Shh…” Merlin cooed, “It will be fine.”

 

“No.” Arthur pulled back, “No it will not be fine, you will die!”

 

“That is my choice to make”

 

“Emrys” Ruby spoke and Merlin turned away, but Arthur could not pull his gaze away from him. Tracing the outline of his pale face, the jut of sharp cheek bones laid over by fair skin and dark ink black hair falling over his large ears and his mouth… those luscious full lips that not an hour ago had been attached to his. Arthur did not hear what Ruby said but he noticed when Merlin nodded and a sad half smile stretched across his face.

 

“I will go” Merlin began, “Ne níede ádrífen mé” 

 

“No…no” Arthur reached out again, knowing that he must look pathetic and helpless, but he couldn’t allow this to happen. Merlin had become the most important thing in Arthur’s life, again, he could not loose him.

 

“I will protect my family and yours, no matter the consequences.” Merlin smiled, reaching out to run a finger down the side of his cheek.

 

Arthur felt drowsy, his center of gravity seeming to move ever so slightly, “What?” he held tightly to Merlin protest rising in his throat but found he could not make his lips form the words. Distantly he realized that he was falling, stumbling over his own feet and he felt the smooth slide of someone’s arms as they caught him and lowered him slowly to the ground. When he looked up he was enveloped in the blue of Merlin’s eyes. “I’m sorry” Merlin whispered, and then Arthur’s eyes slipped closed. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragon Language:
> 
> “Ne níede ádrífen mé” - Do not follow me
> 
>  
> 
> **Comments are loved and appreciated :)


	7. Chapter 7

 

The trek to Camelot was surprisingly short on horseback, if uncomfortable. Merlin rode alone, his hands clasped in iron behind his back and his body tied to the saddle so that he did not loose his balance and fall. The iron they’d cuffed around his wrists burned as it kept his magic at bay. He could feel it bubbling up inside him with no place to go and he wondered how a kingdom so against magic could justify using it to keep sorcerers contained. Of course hypocrisy shouldn’t really surprise him after what the king had done to those with magic during The Purge. Apparently in Uther’s kingdom you could respect magic one day and then murder everyone with it the next.

 

Merlin jostled in his seat as the horse made its way down a particularly steep hill to the valley in which Camelot sat. He corrected his posture quickly only just managing not to fall off the side of his mount. No doubt the ropes would have caught him but Merlin didn’t fancy hanging uncomfortably from the side of the horse until they reached the citadel. It was not as if Arthur’s knights would be any help. None of the men would even look at him. Not that it was a terrible shock seeing as he had killed one of their own and that he hid his scorn and dislike for them all very poorly. Their fear of him would almost have been funny if he wasn’t on the way to his death.

 

Ruby had pleaded with him not to go, insisted that they could be gone from the dens before Camelot returned with reinforcements. Merlin had refused. He knew as well as she did that they would have had to leave the hatchlings. The three eggs would not survive a long journey to a new nesting ground. If dragons were ever to build up their numbers again, emerge from their place in the shadows they needed every new hatchling. In the end Merlin knew that he was not more important than three new dragons. Ruby being the mother hen she was had argued of course, but in the end a dragon cannot disobey a dragonlord.

 

Then of course there was Arthur...His long lost friend, his brilliant beautiful prat. He would have risked everything for Merlin, he knew that, would have stood their arguing and pleading until he was blue in the face and sparing that fought at his side against any who would threaten him. Merlin knew that because he would have done so were the tables turned.

 

 He did not want to leave Arthur, god he did not want to, not when he’d just found him again but the alternative was bloodshed on both sides.

 

By the time the procession of knights entered into the palace courtyard Arthur had still not awakened. He laid still and silent on a cart lined with furs towards the front surrounded by loyal knights. Sir Leon, the ginger haired knight who seemed to be in charge dismounted first greeting a harried looking older man who insisted that they bring the prince into the castle at once.

 

“Galahad, Percy,” he motioned to two large knights, “take the prince to his chambers.”

 

The two men moved quickly, lifting the pelt beneath Arthur to form a makeshift cot and unloading him from the cart. Merlin looked his fill, knowing that in all likelihood it would be the last time he saw Arthur. He was limp, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly parted and for a desperate moment Merlin fantasized about waking him. He let himself imagine Arthur’s eyelids fluttering open and those azure blue eyes looking on him from across the square. But he knew that Arthur would have only fought to save him again and probably be locked away until the execution was over. This way was better. When Arthur woke up Merlin would be just like a dream, a man who never was, and maybe people would be kind to Arthur and tell him that he was just a dream and maybe Merlin would be lucky and Arthur would believe it.

 

Arthur disappeared into the castle and the remaining knights all turned their attention to Merlin.

 

“Get him down” Leon said, “and into the dungeons.”

 

Two knights gripped him by his bound arms escorting him into the palace and immediately down into the dank dungeons. They hand him off as soon as they are able to, to two overweight guards who seemed to be used to dealing with sorcerers and were therefore not as skittish when it came to pushing him down the stairs. Merlin tripped on the final flight and he can hear them laughing as he spills down the cold stone stairs. He lands with a dull thud, his head smacking hard against stone and for a moment he’s dizzy, but he has no time to collect himself before he is once again being pulled to his feet by the guards and pushed through the labyrinth of cells.

 

They stop at the last cell in a line near the back wall of the jail and Merlin can just make out the runes that are crudely carved into the wood. They are familiar to him at once, very similar to those that are traced across the irons he’s worn on the journey, a cell to contain magic it seems. One of the large guards pulls open the door to the cell while the other unlocks the cuffs from around Merlin’s wrists before pushing him to the floor within. They laugh to themselves and leave him alone.

 

All in all Merlin feels it could have gone worse as he stretches his arms back into a natural position. He raises himself from the floor, slowly standing though still dizzy from the fall. At least he thinks it’s from the fall, he can’t really be certain. There is a crudely made bed comprised of a bit of straw and a cream colored sheet against the wall and he shuffles over and slides down the wall to sit.

 

His head is pounding but the intensity is starting to dull as he lays down being sure to keep the weight of his head off of the area where it hit the ground. He turns onto his back, looking up a the dark stone overhead, it gleams damp in the  low light that seeps through the cell’s lone window. Merlin’s glad he won’t be there long enough to catch a cold from the damp wet cool air that inhabits the prison. He bunches up some straw beneath his head as a makeshift pillow and settles in to wait. He’s not sure how long it will take Sir Leon to explain to Uther that Merlin is a sorcerer who had kept the prince captive and from there to set up the pyre or sharpen the axe, whatever method of execution strikes the king’s fancy today. He is glad though that Leon does not plan to tell the king of his family staying where they are until the hatchlings are born. He can tell Leon is loyal to Arthur and his wishes even if he’s gone against them this once.

 

Merlin can still feel Ruby in his mind. The warm comforting presence that has not left him since the day his parents were murdered and she swept him out a raging river current that threatened to take him as well. He wonders if this was all he was meant for, with all the talk of prophecies and two sides of the same coin, he always did think that he was meant for more. Perhaps not uniting all of Albion but at least he imagined he’d go down fighting, protecting his family or even the druids for a time. So what had happened? He does not regret his decision, not at all. He would give himself up again if it meant it would spare his family’s lives and Arthur the pain of fighting against his own men. He just wishes it wasn’t all over so soon, wishes he’d had more time to spend with his family and if he’s honest with Arthur most of all.

 

That kiss…gods Arthur had kissed him, and it was everything he’d been afraid it would be, intense and all encompassing and so...right, like coming home after a long time away. Merlin hadn’t been able to hold back his response and even now locked in a cell he can’t help but imagine the feeling of Arthur’s hair sliding between his fingers and his lips plush and secure against his own. Merlin loves Arthur, he knows that and he hates it. He hates it because Arthur is the son of Uther Pendragon and heir to a throne that is responsible for the near extinction of magic and the death of his parents. He hates it because Arthur is pompous and condescending. He hates it because that means it is possible the prophecies might have been right all the while and if Merlin had gone to Camelot earlier he might have been in time to change things, might have been able to work with Arthur towards a better future for all his kind. But mostly he hates it because he knows that it doesn’t matter. He is a sorcerer and Arthur is a prince and even if he didn’t have to die there could never be anything between them. Arthur despite his failings is light and hope, Merlin is a beast.

 

Night falls slowly and while the pain in Merlin’s head fades, the magic running through his veins seems to become more and more agitated. He feels hot, and the more he tries to shrug off the feeling the louder the buzzing in his blood sounds. He tries to push his magic out, let it sink down into the stones beneath him but the runes around him keep it trapped within his skin. Soon he realizes that he is having trouble breathing, his chest is heaving, his diaphragm rising and falling quickly.  It only takes a few minutes for him to understand that there is something really wrong and one or two more for him to lose consciousness.

 

 

When Arthur wakes he is in his own bed. The room is dark save for a lone candle sitting at his beside near Gaius who is asleep in a chair, no doubt having been looking after him for some time. A feeling of appreciation and comfort settles over him as he takes in his old physician but it is soon taken over by a shot of panic and fear. It takes him only seconds to remember where he was before he’d fallen asleep, Merlin’s resigned eyes and the surrounding men ready to take him back to Camelot for trial. Suddenly Arthur is up and stumbling out of his bed. He loses his balance quickly, knocking over the pitcher of water on the table near his bed but regains his footing easily before tearing open his wardrobe in search of clothes.

 

“Your highness!” Gaius stands obviously woken by Arthur’s stumbling, but Arthur ignores him slipping a tunic over his head and looking around for his sword.

 

 “Arthur, what are you doing, get back into bed.” Gaius says as he steps in front of him.

 

“Where is he?” Arthur demands, “Where have they taken him?”

 

“What? Who are you talking about?”

 

“Merlin!” Arthur has no patience; he knows that if they are back in Camelot that Merlin is in danger, that self sacrificing git. He will never forgive him if he gets himself killed.

 

“Merlin?” Gaius looks shocked to hear the name.

 

“Yes the sorcerer they brought back with me, I have to get him out of here before my father has him executed.” Gaius is silent, “They did…bring a boy back with me, didn’t they?”

 

“Y-yes” Gaius nods, “But Sir Leon said that he held you captive, that he helped the dragons kill the other knights and kept you as punishment after they left.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, have you seen Merlin? He couldn’t keep a fly held captive.”

 

“They say he’s a powerful sorcerer” Arthur stopped, Gaius seemed sad, and when he looked to the old physician he saw a sense of hopelessness he vaguely remembered from the days after the purge.

 

“You and I both know that having magic doesn’t make someone evil.” Gaius only nodded, “He’s your nephew isn’t he? I’d forgotten after all this time. Did you know he survived?”

 

“No” Gaius’ eyes were bright, unshed tears held back by will alone, “I thought he died along with my sister and her husband. If I had…”

 

Arthur reached out, placing a comforting hand on the older man’s shoulder, “He was well taken care of. He was not alone.”

 

Gaius stepped back nodding, though Arthur was unsure if the information comforted the man at all, “He has already been sentenced, he is to burn at dawn.”

 

“Then we have to get him out tonight.”

 

 

The dungeons were silent after the guards departed, they were not hard to buy off and Arthur had enough gold to bribe even the most loyal of servants. Gaius had gone to secure horses and supplies and Arthur had instructed him on where to meet them so that they could make their escape unhindered. Arthur stepped carefully, sword raised as he made his way through the corridors of empty cells. He descended to the bottom floor where the rune soaked cages that his father had constructed were housed. It was dark still, only an hour before dawn but still enough time to get to Merlin and steal away. At the far back of the room a torch was lit and secured upon the wall, just giving off enough light to outline of the shadow of Merlin’s sleeping form.

 

“Merlin!” Arthur rasped, trying to keep quiet but alert the man to his presence. “Merlin, get up you lazy ass.” Arthur lifted the keys he had procured from the wayward guards and lifted them to the lock. “Merlin!” he called again but Merlin still did not move. “Merlin?” Arthur flung the door open, rushing to the other man’s side.

 

Merlin’s skin was even more pale than usual and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. “Merlin, please we have to go” he shook him by the shoulder, “wake up you numpty, do you want to be killed?” Merlin moaned softly as Arthur patted his cheek but still did not open his eyes. Something was wrong, but Arthur did not have time to investigate it further, he had to go now if he didn’t want Merlin to burn come morning. “Fine, but you owe me” Arthur chided as he swept his arms under Merlin, one under his shoulders and the other at the bend of his knees and lifted.

 

Arthur stepped from the cell quietly, he couldn’t go back the way he came there would be too much risk of being seen by a servant or a night watchman. So he slipped quietly towards the back stairs, those not often used since people in the cells rarely needed to be brought to the armory. From there he could skirt his way across the courtyard and into the stables where Gaius would be waiting. He started up the stairs, pausing a moment to heft Merlin more securely in his arms.

 

“For someone so small you weigh a ton” Arthur whispered stepping cautiously up the darkened stairway.

 

It took about five minutes to navigate the three floors of darkened stairway between making sure to keep his balance and the silent panic that filled his head when Merlin still didn’t wake. The armory was thankfully deserted when entered; he made his way quickly to the door leading to the courtyard, peeking out to survey where the night watch stood. He quickly spotted two near the main entrance to the castle, they seemed to be engaged in a heated conversation and a third had just done a sweep of the open square itself and was moving on to the back wall of the citadel. It was risky, but doable.

 

Arthur looked down at Merlin who still lay pale and silent but for his struggling breath. He could do it, he had to. With a deep breath Arthur slipped out through the door, staying close to the walls, as deep in the shadows as he could. As he rounded the corner and ducked beneath the open portcullis he breathed a sigh of relief, the stables were only feet away and he could see a light burning through the open doors.

 

“Gaius” Arthur called as he entered the stables and laid Merlin down across several bales of hay. “Something is wrong, I think he’s injured.”

 

“You foolish boy!” Arthur spun around, his heart seizing in his chest.

 

“Father”

 

Uther stood strong and furious before him, flanked by two knights who held Gaius between them.

 

“What do you think you are doing?” the king seethed. Arthur didn’t answer but he stood from his place crouched over Merlin, making sure to put himself between the sorcerer and his father. His father seemed to take that as answer enough. “He’s still under the sorcerers spell, take him.”

 

“No!” Arthur held out his sword, warding off the knights who started towards them.

 

“Arthur, this is enough of this nonsense!”

 

“He’s injured, at least allow Gaius to look at him” he pleaded.

 

“He is a sorcerer; he is to die at dawn, why should I care if he is injured?”

 

“Arthur?” a tired voice called and Arthur shut his eyes not knowing whether to be glad or heartbroken that Merlin had awoken just in time to be marched to the pyre. “Arthur?”

 

Merlin sat up behind him slowly, and Arthur turned to see him looking around in curiosity before the realization set in that the king stood before him. His expression hardened immediately.

 

“Uther” greeting him as one would a common peasant.

 

“Is that any way to address your king?” One of the knights chided.

 

“He has not been my king for a very long time.” Merlin sneered.

 

“So you are of this kingdom after all” Uther peered at him as if trying to place him from some distant memory.

 

“I’ve been told,” Merlin got uneasily to his feet and Arthur reached over to steady him, letting one of his arms linger around the smaller man’s waist, the other held fast to his sword. “that I look much like my father.”

 

The king’s eyes seemed to widen a bit as he recognized the similarities, “Balinor.” He intoned with a bored air that belied his actual shock. “So this is why you tried to help him.” He turned to Gaius briefly, “He’s your nephew.”

 

“Yes, sire” Gaius bowed and Arthur could feel the tightening of Merlin’s muscles.

 

“Or maybe he was just trying to help because he doesn’t believe that every person that happens to be born with magic deserves a swift execution” Merlin glared.

 

“Not helping” Arthur said, sweeping his arm out to guide Merlin behind him. It wasn’t that he did not understand Merlin’s anger, he did. He understood what loosing a parent felt like and to loose two had to be unbearable. He didn’t know what he would do if he ever came across Nimueh and he hates that in the story of Merlin’s life it is his own father that is that sinister character, but right now at this moment all Arthur cares about is getting Merlin out of this alive. Insults and accusation would not persuade his father to let him go.

 

“Please father” Arthur began, “surely you can see that Merlin is not a threat. He remained hidden away in the forest until we stumbled upon him.”

 

“Yes, and look what happens when he was discovered. Two of your knights are dead. Should I just let him go so that he can kill the next unfortunate soul who stumbles upon him and his beasts?”

 

“He wouldn’t!”

 

“He did. Tristan was slain not two nights ago!”

 

“He was being threatened!”

 

“He abducted a prince! That is enough Arthur. I will hear no more of this.” The King .sighed, motioning his knights forward once again.

 

“Stop right there or I will run you through.” Arthur glared, raising his sword towards the knights.

 

“You would openly defy me?” Uther stepped forward, “You would defy your king?”

 

“I will not lose Merlin to your prejudice.”

 

“You are bewitched.” Uther nodded, seeming to be convinced.

 

“I am not bewitched…” Arthur paused as Merlin’s hand settled on his arm.

 

“Enough” a tired smile pulled at Merlin’s lips, “I came here knowing my fate Arthur. I appreciate what you tried to do but…”

 

“Shut up you complete moron, I am not letting you die!”

 

“Who says I am letting you make that decision?” Merlin stood properly setting his hands on his hips.

 

“Will you be quiet! This is no time for dragonlord posturing, I am trying to save your ungrateful life.”

 

“And how do you propose to do that?” Merlin gestured to the king and his knights, “The king is here, he is not going to simply let me go…”

 

“Quite right”

 

“Shut your mouth” Merlin growled at Uther, his eyes glowing gold and Arthur couldn’t help but gasp as the realization hit that Merlin could quite easily walkout of Camelot at any moment and never look back. He was powerful, powerful enough to overpower a couple knights surely and yet he was staying to be put to death. He was accepting that this would be his last morning on this earth, and for what? So that Arthur wouldn’t have to defy his father? Enough was enough.

 

“A moment,” Arthur looked to his father. “Please just let us have a few minutes to say goodbye.”

 

“And let you escape right out from under my nose? Surely you don’t think I’m that dim-witted.”

 

“Sire, I could write a sigil on the door, it would not let any spell be cast within the stable.”

 

“And I should trust you after you tried to help him escape?”

 

“Either I will escape with Arthur now and you will never see him again or you will give us a moment to say goodbye.” Merlin’s tone brooked no argument.

 

“Please, father” Arthur begged. “Just a few minutes, I give you my word that I will not try to leave.”

 

Uther looked conflicted, Arthur knew he was not used to being put in a position where he had little choice but to acquiesce and despised it when he was. “Very well then, you have until dawn.” He moved past them to the door, “But we will be stationed at the door and if either of you tries to escape the consequences will be dire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Unbetad any mistakes are mine. - Comments are loved and appreciated :)


	8. Chapter 8

 

“Please, father” Arthur begged. “Just a few minutes, I give you my word that I will not try to leave.”

 

Uther looked conflicted, Arthur knew he was not used to being put in a position where he had little choice but to acquiesce and despised it when he was. “Very well then, you have until dawn.” He moved past them to the door, “But we will be stationed at the door and if either of you tries to escape the consequences will be dire.”

 

With that the king turned and left with his knights slamming the doors to the stable behind them. The stables were silent for a moment, only the sounds of horses pacing in the back, no doubt disturbed from their sleep by the raised voices.

 

 Arthur took a deep breath, “Okay now go.” He said at once turning to Merlin.

 

“What?”

 

“Go,” Arthur walked back into the stable, “you can take my horse, Roan has always been a good mount and he’s fast. You can be out the back and half way out of Camelot before the guards can even get reigns in hand.”

 

Arthur moved quickly, there was no time to delay, he they had to do this now. He reached for the latch to Roan’s stall but was stopped when Merlin caught his shoulder, forcing Arthur back up against the stall he’d been reaching for.

 

“What are you talking about?” Merlin seethed, “I am not going anywhere.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I will not let you die to save me a lashing from my father.”

 

Merlin smirked, “Silly boy,” he shook his head, “not to discourage your sense of my nobility but I’m not actually staying for you.”

 

“What? Of course you are.”

 

“Arthur. You are my friend, my very best friend” Merlin looked into his eyes and Arthur heard the words that weren’t there. _Love, my love_. “But even so I would not submit myself to being burnt at the stake to spare you a spat with Uther. There is the little matter of my family. Do you not remember the reason I am here in the first place? If I were to escape Uther and his knights would follow and Sir Leon would be forced to tell them where the den is.”

 

“They can move!”

 

“They are moving, they are working on it as we speak, but they need time to move the hatchlings safely, to work the magic that will allow a group as big as ours to move unseen.”

 

“I’ll lie; I will tell them your den is in a different place, it’s simple.”

 

“Arthur, you can say what you wish, but even with those knights loyal to you, there are others that would speak up to tell the truth.” Arthur shook his head, there was a way, he knew there was! “Do you think I would leave you if I had another choice?”

 

Arthur stilled, looking up into Merlin’s cool blue eyes. “I can’t.” Arthur whispered, “I can’t stand by and loose you again. I won’t” he swore.

 

“It is my choice.” Merlin smiled, lifting a hand to brush lightly against Arthur’s cheek. “This is not how I planned my life to end, I will admit…”

 

Arthur tore his gaze away, unable to watch as Merlin accepted death. “Don’t talk to me of plans! You are lying down and giving up, that’s not a plan!” he yelled pushing the other man away.

 

“Arthur…”

 

“No!” Arthur wrenched his hands through his hair, only to have Merlin’s hands come up to meet his, untangling them from the silky strands.

 

“Arthur.”

 

“Don’t you understand?” Arthur murmured looking up into Merlin’s calm eyes, “I-I just found you again and you are just going to let yourself die.”

 

“I have no…” Arthur cut him off, surging forward to pin Merlin against an empty stall and attacking his mouth with his own. The kiss was bracing and passionate but heartbreaking at the same time. All Arthur could think of was Merlin burning in the courtyard below his window while he was helpless to stop it. He couldn’t…he just couldn’t let it happen.

 

“Stop…” Merlin said separating their mouths for a second, “just let us have this.”

 

Arthur nodded slowly, reaching out once again to bring his arms around the younger man’s waist. Their lips met again, slowly but deeper this time. Merlin’s mouth tasted even better than Arthur remembered as he plundered it’s depths with his tongue. Merlin’s long fingers slid beneath his tunic raising it slowly as if trying to map out the wide planes and muscled stomach along the way. Arthur leaned back long enough for Merlin to slip it over his head before nipping and sucking Merlin’s  bottom lip into his mouth.

 

“Please…I need” Arthur murmured.

 

“Yes, yes anything” Merlin agreed, kissing Arthur deeply and arching his back as their hips aligned, rubbing their growing erections together. Arthur reached up sliding his hand across Merlin’s face and palming his cheek as their lips separated. Merlin looked up at him, pupils blown a faint blue tinting the edges.

 

“I-I lov...”

 

“No” Merlin shook his head, “No please don’t... I can’t hear that”

 

Arthur smiled sadly running his thumb along Merlin’s swollen bottom lip, “I need to…you can’t…without knowing that I…forever.” Arthur promised, “Forever.”

 

“I know” Merlin nodded and surged forward taking Arthur’s mouth again, his tongue quickly striking out to rub against his own. Arthur let his weight fall to the side, resting on one arm while the other quickly began to work at the tight breeches Merlin always wore. He kissed a trail down over Merlin’s neck and bare chest sliding his breeches off entirely.

 

The light was dim in the stables, just a single torch and the first of dawn’s rays beginning to peak through the windows, but Arthur took a moment to sit back and study Merlin. The younger man was laid out on the rough straw floor, pale skin stretching from head to toe. He focused on his face first, eyes wide and lips swollen red, then down over his rounded shoulders and thin arms, up over his defined chest, pink dusty nipples, down to the concave shape of his slopping stomach and the trail of fine hair leading down to his hard cock.

 

Arthur’s mouth watered, this is what had always been missing in the past, not just a man, but Merlin. Thin and graceful but full of so much power and strength that Arthur almost felt unworthy to even touch him.

 

“Come here” Merlin held out a hand to him and Arthur let himself be guided back down, kissing Merlin and hoping that all the longing and passion he felt for him was reflected in the touch of their lips.

 

 

 

The situation was getting desperate, the pyre was being built and by midday it would be ready to…well Arthur cannot even think it and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He’s locked in his room which is no doubt guarded by several of his father’s men and they’d taken his weapons from the room as well to make sure he’d have nothing at his disposal should he manage to unlock the door. He’s panicking and he doesn’t mind admitting it. His thoughts are frantic running through any possible scenario that could lead to Merlin’s rescue but so far he’s come up with nothing. He’s stuck, filled with an impotent rage and an overwhelming sense of dread. For he knows if he rescues Merlin he will have to leave his kingdom and the people he swore to protect and if he doesn’t he will have to do the same because if Merlin dies he will kill the king. There is no doubt in his mind of that.

 

“Arthur…” Arthur turned around so violently he nearly loses his footing “Arthur…”

 

“Where are you?” Arthur demanded looking around and seeing no one “Show yourself!”

 

“I am over here you imbecile” said the voice, which sounded suspiciously like Morgana.

 

“Would you like to be more specific?”

 

“Look into the mirror.”  Arthur turned slightly to his left to see the vaguely amused visage of his sister staring back at him.

 

“What are you doing in my mirror?”

 

“Well I thought you might like my help getting out of your little predicament, but if you feel you have everything in hand I could always…”

 

“No!” Arthur interrupted “Morgana if you can help, I would…well I would certainly be indebted to you.”

 

“Oh please don’t beg, it’s so unbecoming of a future king.” She smirked, “now tell me where you are and what is happening.”

 

“Father has locked me in my chambers. He caught me trying to escape with Merlin” He explained, “and the pyre is being set as we speak, it will be ready by midday at the latest.”

 

“Can you get out?”

 

“Father has men guarding the door and I have no weapons.”

 

“What about the window?”

 

“Well I could break it, but I’m several stories up, I imagine the fall might make this whole endeavor pointless.”

 

“Not necessarily” Morgana seemed to be thinking, “okay here is what we’re going to do…”

 

 

Two hours later Arthur was on the verge of hyperventilating. There were so many things that could go wrong with Morgana's plan and yet it was better than anything he had been able to come up with. He would never hear the end of it if they survived. 

 

Arthur stood by his window overlooking the courtyard at the ready. There was a crowd building to witness yet another execution of a sorcerer. All sorts filed in, men, women and children and Arthur spared a disgusted thought for those who would bring their children to witness death. To the side he could see his father empty out onto the balcony along with his manservant and a few faithful men whose tastes Arthur knew lead them to crave the blood of others. The crowd below stilled at the site of their king, Arthur gripped the back of his chair, his knuckles turning white.

 

"Citizens of Camelot" his father began from his place above the crowd, "today we gather to witness the death of not only a sorcerer but a dragonlord. One who would seek to help the beasts rebuild their numbers and spread the filth or magic across our great kingdom." the people were silent, "Now we have all seen the devastation brought by magic and its users, our kingdom has endured more than most and so I ask you to remember this as we pass sentence here today. Remember that though he may look like a mere boy, he would plot against us to pull this kingdom back into darkness." The crowd cheered and Uther bowed magnanimously "Bring the prisoner!"

 

The drums began and Arthur pulled his muscles taught, lifting the heavy oak chair he kept at his side, counting off in his head the amount of beats he knew from past experience it would take until Merlin would reach the pyre. All at once there was a great sounding roar and Arthur took his que, throwing the heavy chair through the window, watching as it shattered the glass leaving it open for him to step into. The crowd had hurried back and his father turned to yell as Arthur stepped onto the window ledge. The roar sounded again and suddenly Ruby was overhead. The people below began to scream, running in all directions away from the great dragon who dove towards the castle.

 

Arthur watched her, closely noticing the small nod of her head she gave him before diving down towards him. He could hear his father screaming for the guards to burn the warlock but he knew the men would be too distracted to carry out any orders. Ruby slid past him, her shoulders just below the window and with a deep calming breath Arthur jumped. He landed against Ruby's hard scales, his breath knocked out of him, but still managed to take hold of one of her long spines and pulled himself upright as she continued on. Arthur could not see but he knew as they came to a stop above the pyre that Ruby was grabbing Merlin. Arrows flew at them from all sides, useless against the protection of Ruby's hide but effective enough when one pierced through the muscles of Arthur's left thigh. Arthur screamed in pain, catching his father's eyes from where he had huddled back from the courtyard. 

 

He was still yelling orders, though Arthur could not be sure what they were and a moment later they were lifting higher up in the air. The wind from Ruby's great wings flowed around him, causing Arthur to hold tighter as they soared up leaving the castle behind. It took only seconds for them to leave the city's boarders all together and soon they were out, Ruby's shadow stretching over the great forest beneath them until Arthur's home was no more than a spec in the distance. 

 

They landed sometime later in a small unfamiliar green valley. Ruby sitting down Merlin before calling out "he's injured!" Arthur's heart rate spiked as he looked around for Merlin. He did not look injured as he ran to the side to let Ruby land, though his mind had become a bit fuzzy during the escape, maybe he was not seeing something. He needed to get down and check.

 

Ruby sat down with a delicate thud and whoosh as the grass blew and settled and suddenly Merlin was with him again. 

 

"Arthur!" Merlin's eyes were wide, brows creased as he looked Arthur over.

 

"S'you injured?" Arthur asked, wondering why his words slurred. 

 

"No you prat" Merlin smirked. "You are." 

 

"Wha..." Arthur's head tilted forward, that was odd, why was he so sleepy?

 

"Arthur! Arthur, hey, Stay awake!" Merlin slipped an arm below Arthur's shoulder, helping him to slide off Ruby's back. "Morgana! I need some help!"

 

"S'she do here?" Arthur gasped as his leg slid from its place astride Ruby.

 

 "Saving you and your lover from an early grave I imagine" Morgana smirked as she came to Arthur's other side.

 

"Oh, s'good" Arthur nodded clumsily as they made their way over to a clear patch of grass.   
  
"Okay Arthur..." Merlin loomed over him, when did he lay down? "Arthur stay with me..." Merlin was muttering something about the arrow and Arthur remembered getting shot by one so he just nodded yes to everything his love said. Merlin looked skeptical but nodded and suddenly there was another bright flash of pain, he was pretty sure he screamed but before Morgana could laugh at him Arthur fell asleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated and loved :)


	9. Chapter 9

 

The light in their new home was dim, candlelight falling against the canvas of their tent while the dragons slept soundly in the surrounding caves. It was just enough to outline the long lean line of Merlin’s bowing neck as Arthur’s hands slid down his chest, dipping down to clutch at his tapered hips. Arthur moaned softly as he once again slid his cock from Merlin’s clutching hole before surging forward hitting that spot inside him that he’d become so familiar with over the past few weeks. Merlin’s half-lidded eyes shined beneath dark lashes, perfect kiss-stung lips shaped a soft “o” and Arthur wondered how his body could ever get enough.

 

Having the Dragonlord willingly at his mercy was more thrilling than he’d imagined. Merlin’s golden irises lighting the dip of his cheekbones as he lost himself in the pleasure of their sweat-slick bodies made an overwhelming image that Arthur knew he’d never be able to forget.

 

“A-Arthur…” Merlin whispered breathily as Arthur once again moved in and out of his well stretched hole. Arthur couldn’t answer, to close to completion, too wrapped up in the soft tight heat of his lover.

 

Merlin brought his hips up as Arthur delved in to him, biting his lower lip to stop a shout as Arthur hit his prostate over and over. Neither wanted to wake the den. Merlin’s adam’s apple bobbed in his pale throat as Arthur sat back, running his hands down the planes of lover’s softly lit chest, stooping down to take a dusty pink nipple into his mouth.

 

‘Oh damn…” Merlin moaned as Arthur circled his slick tongue around the nub flicking gently at the peak as Merlin’s back bowed off the pallet beneath them. “Arthur…I’m going to…”

 

“Not. Yet.” Arthur smirked as he lifted himself from Merlin’s chest, using his strength to lift Merlin’s hips higher, tilting him just so that his legs were wrapped around his torso but he could still buck into that tight heat. “I want to taste you” Arthur purred and without any more warning bent himself into a rather uncomfortable but rewarding position. Merlin’s eyes rolled back as Arthur took his thick length into his mouth, sucking down slowly and to the root.

 

Merlin’s cock hardened even further as Arthur sucked and licked up the quivering vein beneath the head. It was hot and solid beneath the soft salty skin as Arthur brought his lips back and forward in time with the trusts of his hips. Above him Merlin was making piteous whines that sent vibrations through his body and straight to his hard cock lodged inside the younger man.

 

With a slick pop Arthur let his mouth slide from Merlin, “Come for me, love.” He whispered and Merlin’s body stilled, clamping down around Arthur’s member as he spent himself across his chest and Arthur’s bowed face. “Oh…oh fuck…” Merlin breathed as the tent was lit an obscene gold color. Arthur surged forward rutting furiously one…two…three times and following his lover over into ecstasy.

 Breathing heavily, Arthur let his body collapse next to Merlin, his spent cock slipping wetly from between the sorcerer’s thighs. Merlin sighed happily, moving so that his head was pillowed on Arthur’s heaving chest. Arthur brought his arms around him bringing the other man’s body solidly against his own. This he thought, though he would never admit it out loud, was almost as wonderful as the sex they’d just had. The comfort of knowing he was loved and safe by the man in his arms was overwhelming but welcome.

 

 

It had taken a couple months for things to get into some semblance of order. Once Arthur had healed properly which took several days even with Morgana’s knowledge of the healing arts, the two of them had been tossed into the fray. Moving an entire dragon colony was not easy, Arthur was grieved to find that two of the hatchlings had not made it, but finding an inconspicuous place for a group of their size was next to impossible. They’d searched high and low, sending out scouts to fly over the area and look out for possible locations. It was actually Aithusa, who liked to live in Arthur’s shadow nowadays, who found their new home.

 

Arthur had sent the young cub out to hunt as a way of keeping him from under foot for a while so that he could work with Cawthorne on deciding which areas to expand their search to. Aithusa had returned an hour later with news of a possible sanctuary. Arthur was skeptical but had followed diligently through the brush and trees until Aithusa led him to a large wooded area off the beaten path and well into the wilds of the forest.

 

The area was at the bottom of a great mountain, just over the border from Camelot but well away from any town. One would have to know what they were looking for to find it, that was for certain. There were only two caves but they were much larger than the ones that lined the shores of their last home and upon inspection seemed that they would easily house their numbers. A sizable lake sat nearby; just a short walk from the caves to supply them with fresh water and with Merlin setting wards the place had been perfect.

 

The next days had been sent settling the den. Merlin sat up with Ruby helping the remaining hatchling as its egg started to crack. It was a long and difficult process but at the end of two days they had a new member, a small purple scaled creature with large green eyes named Eleanor. She had Arthur wrapped around her talon by the end of her first week.

 

The dragons had settled into the caves quickly and after Eleanor’s birth life in the den seemed to take on a pattern of meals and patrols and playing with the cubs in the dense surrounding forest. Arthur had not known that life could be so simple and easy, yet here he was happy and contented, offering his skills to Brune as a patrol captain and training the hatchlings on how to be vigilant and aware of their surroundings so as not to attract human attention. In his heart he wished they didn’t have to hide, that his father would somehow come to see sense, but in his mind he knew the best he could do for them at the moment was teach them how to keep themselves safe.

 

Merlin set up a large tent for him and Arthur to share. Where he got the tent Arthur had no idea, but Arthur was touched by the effort. It had all been a bit much conforming to his new role in the den. They welcomed him despite his father, even Ruby treating him with kind consideration, but their ways were still so different from his own. The tent was human. It was something he was familiar with from long travels to battle and hunting trips with his knights and it sat just outside the mouth to the largest cave. It was in Arthur’s mind a meeting of both worlds, a perfect place to live with Merlin in love and safety.

 

A month after beginning his new life with the dragons Merlin woke him early to tell him that they would soon have visitors. Sir Leon and Gaius arrived at midday, Merlin explaining that the physician had scried for him, some nonsense having to do with using a bowl of water to communicate. Arthur was still getting up to speed to all of magic’s uses. Merlin had given Gaius directions on how to find them.

 

It turned out that Uther in one of his only shows of mercy had pardoned Gaius, accepting that his old friend must have been enchanted, much like he still believed Arthur to be. For his part the physician had decided he’d had enough of life under Uther’s law and asked for and was granted permission to join the den. Merlin, though he hadn’t said as much, had been very much enjoying getting to know the last member of his human family.

 

At first Arthur assumed that Sir Leon had come with Gaius simply to see him safely to his destination. However the knight had surprised him.

 

“I am ever your man” Leon had said.

 

“Leon, I’m disowned…I appreciate your loyalty but I’ve nothing to offer you.”

 

“If you’ll forgive me sire, I do not mean to stay here with you, I only meant to say that when it is time for you to return I will be ready.” Leon met his eyes, “and I am not the only one.”

 

Arthur had nodded in understanding, shaking the knight’s hand before bidding him goodbye.

 

A week later Merlin pulled a sword from the lake and Kilgharrah began spouting riddles about destiny again.

 

The End

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Comments are welcomed and appreciated :)


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